Across the close grass came a couple of pigeons, white on the green, and the two on the seat were so still that the birds strutted to their feet.
“You are always tired now, sir.”
“I can expect nothing else, my dearest.”
She picked up her sewing.
“And you are so seldom here … you have not sat like this with me … for so long, sir.”
“The house is too sombre for you,” answered John de Witt tenderly. “You must return to Dordt——”
“No,” breathed Agneta quickly, looking up into his face. “Oh no! let me stay here, sir.”
“My dearest!”
He laid his fine hand lightly on her shoulder.