“I do not wish any dinner,” he said.
Vivienne looked at him mournfully. “And I am so hungry!”
He smiled. “Well, my child, I hope for your sake that the bill of fare is all you can desire.”
“It will not be if you are not there. The daintiest dishes will turn to dust and ashes in my mouth.”
“How she loves me—this little girl,” he said, holding her at arms’ length and fondly inspecting her.
“It grieves me when you brood over troubles,” she continued, with a contraction of her dark brows. “You are a true Anglo-Saxon. Try to be light-hearted.”
“I place myself at your disposal,” he said. “Tell me what to do.”
“Ah, you have spoken; now do not retract. Go immediately to unhappy Flora. Try to make her comprehend that you forgive her, that she shall never be forced to leave Pinewood, that I and you also wish her to stay.”
“No, no,” he interrupted, “I cannot agree to that.”
“Do you think I could be contented in a paradise even with you from which unhappy souls have been expelled?” she exclaimed.