“Of course—the moment I clapped eyes on you.” He was not consciously romanticizing.
“That’s what I’ve been thinking as I waited here for you. I’m so glad. Because that shows you were only teasing me, saying all those horrid things.” Then a new thought struck her to self-mockery. “Of course—I’m getting silly—it wasn’t so wonderful of you recognizing me, with the name of Daniel Quarles on the cart.” And she laughed merrily. “Do you know why I didn’t recognize you? It wasn’t only Miss Flippance put me off, and that I couldn’t connect you with drums and marionettes—it was you yourself that blocked the way.”
“I don’t understand.”
“The old you, I mean—I was thinking about him all the time we were talking, and that funny new you wasn’t like him one bit.”
“Thinking of me!” He was touched. . . . “Whatever made you think of me?”
“Didn’t I just tell you I’ve got your box? And of course I knew you were coming back. We’ve been expecting you for days.”
“Oh, then mother did get my letter!” His latent ill-humour flowed into the new channel.
“Of course.”
“Then why didn’t dad come to meet me?”
Her mouth twitched humorously at the corners with the suspicion the letter was still unread, but she replied: “I suppose because he’s old and hasn’t got a trap any more, and he knew that Tuesday was my day. Jump up, I’m ever so late!”