'That too.'
Aminta shook herself out of a sudden stupor.
'Her mind was very clear up to the last hour upon all the subjects interesting her son. She at one time regretted his not being a soldier, for the sake of his father's memory. Then she learned to think he could do more for the world as the schoolmaster. She said you can persuade.'
'We had our talks. She would have the reason, if she was to be won. I like no other kind of persuasion.'
'I long to talk over the future school with you. That is, to hear your plans.'
They were at the foot of the hill, in view of an inn announcing livery stables. She wished to walk the whole distance. He shook his head.
The fly was ready for her soon, and he begged to see her safe home. She refused, after taking her seat, but said: 'At any other time. We are old friends. You will really go through the ceremony of consulting me about the school?'
He replied: 'I am honoured.'
'Ah, not to me,' said Aminta. 'We will be the friends we—You will not be formal with me?—not from this day?'
She put out her hand. He took it gently. The dead who had drawn them together withheld a pressure. Holding the hand, he said: 'I shall crave leave of absence for some days.'