“I am beginning to think that you might not accept it.”
“How can I say till I hear it?”
“Cannot you guess its nature?”
“I might guess wrongly. Please tell me,” she said, stealing a witching glance at him from beneath her dark eyelashes, and encouraging him with a smile that showed a dazzling set of teeth.
Wilfrid still fenced with the question, making it a matter of wonder to Marie that he, who had never been lacking in courage, should show such hesitation with her. How sweet to have such power over him! but how much sweeter it would be if he would only say the words she was longing to hear!
“You said just now,” he remarked, “that you have been happy here. What has made you so?”
“Many things. The malicious joy of being alive, when my enemies think me dead; the beautiful summer air; the waving woods of Runö; the quaint old castle, with its books and antiquities; the sweet doing-nothing all day long; the sense of freedom and irresponsibility; above all, Pauline’s kindness.”
“Nothing more?”
“Your—your friendship.”
“You put that last, I see.”