“I was thinking,” she murmured very low.
“Thought, action—so many snares! If you begin to think you will be unhappy.”
“I wasn't thinking of myself!” she declared with a simplicity which took Heyst aback somewhat.
“On the lips of a moralist this would sound like a rebuke,” he said, half seriously; “but I won't suspect you of being one. Moralists and I haven't been friends for many years.”
She had listened with an air of attention.
“I understood you had no friends,” she said. “I am pleased that there's nobody to find fault with you for what you have done. I like to think that I am in no one's way.”
Heyst would have said something, but she did not give him time. Unconscious of the movement he made she went on:
“What I was thinking to myself was, why are you here?”
Heyst let himself sink on his elbow again.
“If by 'you' you mean 'we'—well, you know why we are here.”