‘Tell me some things,’ he said.
‘I have been telling you, and you didn’t listen,’ she said.
‘Because I was looking at you. You know, I’ve never seen you once in my life before without your hat.’
‘Never once in your life before,’ she repeated smiling. ‘As if you had been seeing me since your cradle.’
‘I’ve always known you,’ he said solemnly; and at this she rather quickly offered him some cake, which he ignored.
‘In my dreams,’ he went on, gazing at her with eyes which were, she was afraid, a little—well, not those of an ordinary caller.
‘Oh—dreams. My dear Mr. Monckton. Do,’ she said, waving intangiblenesses aside, ‘have some more tea.’
‘You must call me Chris.’
‘But why?’
‘Because we’ve known each other always. Because we’re going to know each other always. Because I—because I——’