"I always liked you when you were a little girl," he said, as though he accounted for something to himself.
"Better than Miriam?" she asked quickly.
"Of course."
"Oh," she said, and paused. "But I feel as if Miriam—" She stopped again and waited for his next words, but he saw the steepness of the path on which he had set his feet and he would not follow it.
"And I used to think you looked—well, brave."
"Did I? Don't I now?"
"Yes; so you see, you must be."
"I'll try. Three stars," she said, looking up. "But mayn't I—mayn't I say the things I'm thinking?"
"I hope you will," he answered gravely; "but then, you must be careful what you think."
"This is a very gentle lecture," she said. "Four stars, now. Five. When I've counted seven, we'll go back, but I rather hoped you would be a little cross."