Her golden eyes gleamed; and he read a secret mockery in them. No, mark you, he'd take jolly good care that his sentimentality didn't make him see her as a chocolate-box picture! You only had to look at her eyes!
"But, Gerrit," she said, nestling at his feet, "I never ran after you! I met you by accident, really by accident, I assure you. Don't you remember? Yes, once when I was driving: that was the first time; then near the Alexander Barracks...."
"But what were you doing near the barracks, damn it?"
She looked at him coaxingly, stroked him caressingly:
"Oh, well ... I thought...!"
"There, you see!... You thought...!"
"Yes, you won't believe me.... Even towards the end ... in Paris, Gerrit...."
"Well?"
"I used to think of you sometimes."
"Oh, rot, you're lying!... Do you think I believe you?"