“No,” he said, in his serious way. “I’m not saying I’ve thought of you all the time. What I mean is, that I realised long ago—that you were the—the right one—the only woman in the world for me....”
She smiled again, but with tears in her eyes.
“Let’s not be silly!” she said. “Let’s just be good friends.....”
“No!... Look here, Rosaleen.... I wish I could tell you how I feel.... At first, I’ll be honest—At first I was angry. I felt that you hadn’t been fair with me.... I thought I’d forget the whole thing. But I couldn’t. I wrote to you, twice. And then when you didn’t answer, I thought—it was over. It haunted me. I promise you, Rosaleen——”
She laid her hand very lightly on his arm.
“Please—let’s not bring it all up again?” she said. “It is all over.... Tell me how you’ve been getting on. You look—splendid.”
And she really thought he did. He was well-dressed, he had a prosperous, an important air; he was no longer a boy, but a man, and a mighty self-confident man.
“I’m doing very well,” he said. “But I want to hear about you.”
“Oh!... I’m an artist!” she said, laughing. “A regular professional artist.”
“Are you? It doesn’t seem to agree with you.”