Acia gave me a sidelong look.
‘Yes,’ she answered. ‘Was it nice in the mountains?’ she went on at once. ‘Were they high ones? Higher than the clouds? Tell me what you saw. You were telling my brother, but I didn’t hear anything.’
‘It was of your own accord you went away,’ I remarked.
‘I went away … because …—I’m not going away now,’ she added with a confiding caress in her voice. ‘You were angry to-day.’
‘I?’
‘Yes, you.’
‘Upon my word, whatever for?’
‘I don’t know, but you were angry, and you went away angry. I was very much vexed that you went away like that, and I’m so glad you came back.’
‘And I’m glad I came back,’ I observed.
Acia gave herself a little shrug, as children often do when they are very pleased.