‘There, that settles it,’ says Crosby. ‘He knows his lesson. So do you; come back and forgive us all.’
‘Oh, I can’t,’ says Susan. ‘They would know I had been crying. Look at my eyes; they are quite red.’
‘They are not, indeed,’ says Mr. Crosby, after an exhaustive examination. ‘They are quite blue.’
‘Oh yes, that, of course’—impatiently. ‘But, well—really, how are they?’ She leans towards him, and gazes at him out of the blue eyes with an extraordinary calm. ‘Would they know I had been crying?’
‘They would not,’ says Crosby. ‘It is I alone who am in that secret. And, by the way, Susan’—stopping her as they both rise—‘that is the second secret we have between us; we are becoming quite fashionable—we are growing into a society, you and I.’
‘I wish you would forget that first secret,’ says Susan, blushing a little. ‘And, anyhow, I hope you won’t tell the others that you found me—you know—crying.’
‘Ah, that makes me remember our first secret,’ says Crosby. ‘You know that on that never-to-be-forgotten memorable occasion you said you trusted me.’
‘Did I?’ Susan is blushing furiously now. ‘How can I recollect all the silly things I said then? I have forgotten them all—and I’m sure you have, too.’
‘Not one of them,’ says Crosby. ‘They are now classed with my most priceless memories. “Go and steal no more,” you said—and I haven’t up to this.’
Susan laughs in spite of herself.