"I cannot say—but."
"But—what?"
"One would have to begin from the beginning—."
"Well?"
"And I have not time—."
I looked at her as she said this—there was in the tone a faint echo of regret, so I wanted to see the expression of her mouth—It told me nothing.
I could not get anything further out of her, because the waiters came in and out after this rather frequently, changing the courses—and so I did not have any success.
After lunch I suggested as it had cleared up that we should go at least as far as the parterre, and sit under the shadow of the terrace—the flower beds are full of beans now—their ancient glories departed. Miss Sharp followed my bath chair,—and with extreme diligence kept me to the re-arranging of the first chapter. For an hour I watched her darling small face whenever I could. A sense of peace was upon me. We were certainly on the first rung of the ladder of friendship—and presently—presently—If only I could keep from annoying her in any way!
When we had finished our task she rose—.
"If you don't mind, as it is Saturday I have promised Burton"—and she looked at him, seated on a chair beyond earshot enjoying the sun—"to do up the accounts and prepare the cheques for you to sign—. So I will go in now and begin."