“Yes. I wish—is it too much to ask?—would you send me two lines—no more—for the sake of our half-relationship, you know, just to tell me, to tell me—”
He was so eager that he could not make himself very clear. But she guessed his meaning and smiled gravely.
“Not for the sake of our relationship, which is not very clearly made out, I think, but for the sake of your— Well, never mind of what—perhaps you shall hear of or from me again—some day. What is your address?”
“May I write it down?”
“I shall remember it.”
He gave her the address, and she listened in silence, with her eyes fixed intently on the sea. Then she said quickly, as if struck with a sudden thought of deep import,—
“Thank you. I must go now. If Pierre Vazon were to see me talking to you again he would make mischief—at least, he might. I don’t trust him. Good-bye.”
She held out her hand quickly; he pressed it one moment in his, with a thrill which communicated itself perhaps to her. She blushed a rosy red and drew her fingers sharply away.
“Good-bye,” she said again.
And she was gone.