“Then why can’t your honour see me now an’ then?” Here she was aware that he had lifted his head and turned to peer at her.
“I shall be very ... busy,” he answered, with a strange pause between the two words.
“And will your honour have time to miss me?”
“Heaven knows it, child!” he answered, leaning nearer.
“And shall you be—always busy, sir?” she questioned softly, swaying towards him until, despite the darkness, he could behold all the witchery of her look. “Shall you think of me sometimes?”
“Often, Rose ... as the most wonderful ... of—serving-maids!” he answered, turning suddenly away.
“How wonderful?” she demanded.
“Vastly wonderful, child.”
“What d’you mean by wonderful?”
“Just—wonderful; you fill me with wonder.”