"Well, of course, I mean if you hadn't eaten them," says Dulce, sadly.
"But, my life, I never saw them!" exclaims poor Roger, vehemently; "I swear I didn't."
"Well, then, if I hadn't said you did," says Dulce, mournfully.
"Ah! that indeed," says Mr. Dare, with corresponding gloom. "If you hadn't all might now be well; as it is— Do you know I have never since seen one of those loathsome sweets without feeling positively murderous, and shall hate chocolate to my dying day."
"It was a pity we fought about such a trifle," murmurs she, shaking her head.
"Was it?" Turning to her, he lifts her face with his hand and gazes intently into her eyes. Whatever he sees in those clear depths seem to satisfy him and make glad his heart. "After all, I don't believe it was," he says.
"Not a pity we quarreled, and—and lost each other?" Considering the extremely close proximity to each other at this moment, the allusion to the loss they are supposed to have sustained is not very affecting.
"No. Though we were rather in a hole now," says Mr. Dare, rather at a loss for a word. "I am very glad we fought."
"Oh, Roger!"
"Aren't you?"