Then the curious note was struck again.
“Good-bye, Miss Schlegel, good-bye. Thank you for coming. You have cheered me up.”
“I’m so glad!”
“I—I wonder whether you ever think about yourself.”
“I think of nothing else,” said Margaret, blushing, but letting her hand remain in that of the invalid.
“I wonder. I wondered at Heidelberg.”
“I’m sure!”
“I almost think—”
“Yes?” asked Margaret, for there was a long pause—a pause that was somehow akin to the flicker of the fire, the quiver of the reading-lamp upon their hands, the white blur from the window; a pause of shifting and eternal shadows.
“I almost think you forget you’re a girl.”