“There I must confess to some curiosity. Do you remember you said to me, ‘You are not hurt.’”
“Well?” said he, and smiled—a smile all the more charming as he bent his head to hers.
“Well!” she retorted. “I was hurt; your horse frightened me. To be frightened is to be hurt. Can you dispute it?”
“I never saw anyone stand pain better. Your face was a vision of—of—”
“Of what?” she asked.
“I do not understand your language very well, as yet. I shall improve in it; you must be patient. In a week or two I shall have found the word I need.”
“And till then?”
“Learn to be gracious to a poor speaker.”
“Ah! But I do not intend to let you off so easily. After telling me I was not hurt, you next proceeded to say, ‘In that case you would have been deeply sorry’—you see my memory is good. Now, am I to understand that under the circumstances you felt no sorrow?”
“Most certainly.”