“I am glad,” he replied, meaning it truly, and meaning yet more truly that he was sorry; and he must have had an expression which told the subtler truth, for she broke into one of her rare smiles and said:
“I did not mean to hurt you, Signor Vill”; and he recovered himself, and corrected her—“Will.”
“W-W-W-Will.” And then she burst out into a merry little laugh.
(Lovers treasure up the smallest trifles of memory.)
Thus emboldened, he asked her in turn—“And has our friendship been a success?”
“Beyond a doubt,” she said, “for it lasts, and people have accepted it. My brother has been out about it very early this morning, but he was not hurt.”
“Is that all you have to say about it?”
“By no means. This morning was the first of our friendship, and I have hardly ever enjoyed a morning so much.”
“This morning?” he said, with surprise mixed with coldness. “After we had arrived?”
“Certainly: how could I enjoy our friendship before?”