Very suddenly she turns to him, and lays her hand upon his arm.
"Be my friend," says she, with a quick access of terrible emotion.
Entreaty and despair mingle in her tone.
"Forever!" returns he, fervently, tightening his grasp on her hand.
"Well," sighing, "it hardly matters. We shall not meet again for a long, long time."
"How is that? Isabel, the last time she condescended to speak to me of her own accord," with an unpleasant laugh, "told me that she had asked you to come here again next February, and that you had accepted the invitation. She, indeed, made quite a point of it."
"Ah! that was a long time ago."
"Weeks do not make a long time."
"Some weeks hold more than years. Yes, you are right; she made quite a point about my coming. Well, she is always very civil."
"She has always perfect manners. She is, as you say, very civil."