"Does 'all' include anything especial?" asked Julius smiling.
"What do you think?" asked she, instead of answering. Her red lips remained just parted with a loving smile.
"I don't think," said Julius. "I leave the thinking to you, my dear. You can do it much better. But I like the sunlight, the broad, good sunlight, far more than the moon. It is so hot and splendid."
"Yes; I suppose it is like you to prefer it. All men like the sun—and I suppose all women like the moon. At least I do. But you must always like what I like now, you know."
"Including myself, I suppose?"
"Bah, my dear," laughed Leonora, "you will find that very easy!"
How very unhappy she must have been, thought Julius. She had not a regret in the world, it seemed; and the only fear she had shown had been when she stumbled on the descent, so that he took her up and carried her.
"Tell me," said he, "what did you do in all those dreadful days when we could not meet?"
"I did nothing but write letters to you—very nice letters too. You have never shown yourself properly grateful."
"No," said Julius, "I have not had time."