“We were such close neighbours to-day, I—I rather thought you'd call,” he stammered. He was uncertain what he was saying—it did not matter—he was there with her.
“When you're in a circus there isn't much time for calling.”
“That's why I've come to call on you.” They might have been sheppherd and sheppherdess on a May-day wooing, for the halting way in which their words came.
“You're all right?” he went on. “You're happy?”
“Yes, very,” she said. Her eyes were downcast.
He did not believe her, the effort in her voice, her drawn, white face belied her words. How COULD he get the truth from her?
“Jim said you might not want to see me.”
She started.
“Has Jim been talking to you?”
“Yes, but I didn't let him stop me, for you told me the day you left that you'd never change—toward me. Have you, Poll?” He studied her, anxiously.