"You will set up my wizard on the door of your house. Every time you hear it you will think of me as floating there like a spirit. Isn't that weird? I have the idea that if an enemy should touch it, you would somehow know at once, and be on your guard. Oh, yes, I was convinced it was a magic knocker the moment I saw it."
He was still staring at it gravely, as if he, too, felt some eerie quality in it. She looked at him, then broke into laughter. "Aren't we a charming pair of children, taking our own make-believe so seriously?"
He laughed, too, though uneasily. "It is good to be children again."
"Like all good things, it is cut short so soon," she responded meditatively.
He replaced the old wizard in its wrappings. "It is true," he murmured, pale and haggard. "Time is flying."
"Ah, well," she said with a catch in her breath.
They were looking at each other brokenly. The air echoed and echoed with the "goodbye" that was not spoken.
He took her hand in his. "Princess," he whispered huskily, "I had dreamed of your seeing my studio ere we said goodbye. It would be for the first time and last, remember. Won't you come with me now, dear?—the merest glimpse—if only to see where your magic knocker is to hang—You understand, dear?"
Her eyes glistened. "Yes, I understand, dear. I will come with you."
"This is one of the kindest things that even your life will hold!" he exclaimed.