"It was from Josef, of course, that I had most help, always belittling this affair, always trying to make me forget in work. I was too tired at night to grieve; I had to sleep. 'Women,' he said, 'coddle their griefs! They revel in hopeless passion! They nurse it! Remember,' he said, 'there are two ways to forget: weeping and making swings.' Well," she finished, "he taught me to make swings."
"And you have forgotten?" Francis asked, standing beside her, magnetic, compelling, taken out of himself.
Memories were drawing them together. Remembered kisses, words, spoken lips to lips, and that elemental sweet attraction of man for woman, which should be ranked with the other great elemental things like fire, water, earth, and air. Katrine rose also, and they stood looking into each other's eyes.
"No," she answered, quite steadily, "I have not forgotten. I never shall forget. I would
give my life to feel that you are the man I once believed you to be, the man I believe you could have been."
"Will you be frank with me, Katrine?" he demanded.
"Have I ever been anything else?" she questioned, in return.
"You have avoided me since you came."
"Yes, only I hope not noticeably."
"No, it was well done, but why?"