“You do mean then that I may come alone?”
“I won’t receive you, I assure you, on any other terms. I want to show you,” he continued, “what life CAN give. Not of course,” he subjoined, “of this sort of thing.”
“No—you’ve told me. Of peace.”
“Of peace,” said Mr. Longdon. “Oh you don’t know—you haven’t the least idea. That’s just why I want to show you.”
Nanda looked as if already she saw it in the distance. “But will it be peace if I’m there? I mean for YOU,” she added.
“It isn’t a question of ‘me.’ Everybody’s omelet is made of somebody’s eggs. Besides, I think that when we’re alone together—!”
He had dropped for so long that she wondered. “Well, when we are—?”
“Why, it will be all right,” he simply concluded. “Temples of peace, the ancients used to call them. We’ll set up one, and I shall be at least doorkeeper. You’ll come down whenever you like.”
She gave herself to him in her silence more than she could have done in words. “Have you arranged it with mamma?” she said, however, at last.
“I’ve arranged everything.”