“You are thoughtful, mon ami,” she said, with a soft lightness. “Tell me what you are thinking of.”
“I don’t know. I don’t think I am thinking at all. I feel rather as if I were sunning myself in your smiles, like a cat.”
“You like being here, like this?”
“I love it.”
“Then come often. Why not?”
“I shall bore you.”
“I think not. It is pleasant to me also to have some one keeping me company in such a natural, homely way. You see, I am very much alone. I have no women friends except Hal, who is nearly always engaged; and there are not many men one can invite to come and sit by one’s fireside. You seem to come so naturally and simply. It is clever of you. Very few men could. It is difficult to believe you are only twenty-four.”
“I fancy years often do not go for very much. I have travelled about alone a great deal. Anyhow, you are just as young for thirty-two as I am old for twenty-four.”
“Hal has helped to keep me young. She restores me like some patent elixir. I suppose I love her more than any one in the world.”
“I’m not surprised,” he answered. “A good many people love Hal. Dick and Quin just dote on her.”