And in sympathy she makes no answer.
“I love three things,” I go on. “I love a dream of love I once had; I love you; and I love this spot of ground.”
“And which do you love most?”
“The dream.”
All still again. Æsop knows Eva; he lays his head on one side and looks at her. I murmur:
“I saw a girl on the road to-day; she walked arm in arm with her lover. The girl looked towards me, and could scarcely keep from laughing as I passed.”
“What was she laughing at?”
“I don't know. At me, I suppose. Why do you ask?”
“Did you know her?”
“Yes. I bowed.”