"I accept," she said, frankly holding out her hand.
"I am very proud," he said quietly. He took off his hat and touched her fingers with his lips. Then they walked on without a word for some minutes.
"What a strange thing life is!" exclaimed Leonora, at last.
"Yes, it is very strange," he answered. "Here are we two, on the smallest provocation, swearing eternal friendship on the high road, as though we were going to storm a citadel, or head an Arctic expedition. But I am really very glad, and very grateful."
Somehow the reflection did not sound light or flippant; and to tell the truth, Leonora was thinking precisely the same thing, wondering inwardly how she could possibly have gone to such a length with a mere acquaintance. But the land of friendship was an untried territory for Leonora, and she seemed to find in the idea a sudden rest from a sense of danger. A friend could never be a lover,—she knew that! This was the meaning of the dream. But she answered quietly enough.
"If things are real at all," she said, "they are as real at one time as at another."
"Yes," answered Batiscombe. "Malakoff or Sorrento, it is all the same."
CHAPTER X.
"You will come in?" said Leonora when they reached the gate.