“Barely four times!”
“That is very often.”
She laughed brightly:
“Is this a compliment?”
“It is meant for one,” he replied. “You do not know how much it means to me to see you.”
It meant much to him to see her! And she felt herself so small, so weak; and him so great, so perfect. With what decision he spoke, how certain he seemed of it all! It almost saddened her that it meant so much to him to see her once in a while. He placed her too high; she did not wish to be placed so high.
And that delicate, fragile something hung between them again, as it had hung between them at the dinner. Then it had been broken by one ill-chosen word. Oh, that it might not be broken now!
“And now let us talk about yourself!” she said, affecting an airy vivacity. “Do you know that you are taking all sorts of pains to fathom me and that I know nothing whatever about you? That’s not fair.”
“If you knew how much I have given you already! I give myself to you entirely; from others I always conceal myself.”
“Why?”