They sat down and smiled at one another, looking into each other's eyes with a longing to kiss.
"My dear little Clo, I do love you."
"I love you, too."
"Then—then—you have not been so very angry with me?"
"Yes, and no. It hurt me a great deal, but I understood your reasons, and said to myself, 'He will come back to me some fine day or other.'"
"I dared not come back. I asked myself how I should be received. I did not dare, but I dearly wanted to. By the way, tell me what is the matter with Laurine. She scarcely said good-morning to me, and went out looking furious."
"I do not know. But we cannot speak of you to her since your marriage. I really believe she is jealous."
"Nonsense."
"It is so, dear. She no longer calls you Pretty-boy, but Monsieur Forestier."
Du Roy reddened, and then drawing close to her said: