"I wonder," she said once, thoughtfully, "what sort of girl I was? I can only remember that I was such a happy girl! Do you remember that I was a specially self-indulgent or frivolous one? But I am afraid you would not tell me, if you did."
"My dear," he said, in response, "you were a natural, simple, joyous creature, and a great pleasure to us."
She gave his hand a little pressure.
"I can remember that you were always good to me," she said. "I used to think you were a little curious about me, and wondered what I would do in the future. Now it is my turn to wonder if I am at all what you thought I would be?"
He did not reply at once, and then spoke slowly.
"There seemed so many possibilities," he said. "Yes; I thought it possible that you might be—what you are."
It was as he said this that there returned to his mind the thought which had occupied it before her entrance. He had been thinking then of something he wished to tell her, before she heard it from other quarters, and which he felt he could tell her at no more fitting time than when they were alone. It was something relating to Laurence Arbuthnot, and, curiously enough, she paved the way for it by mentioning him herself.
"Did you say Laurence was here to-night?" she asked.
"Yes," he replied, "he was so good as to dine with me."