“Poor little girl!” he said.
He had dropped the curtain behind him, and they stood alone.
“Don’t,” said Hedwig. “I want to be very calm, and I am sorry for myself already.”
“Then you think it is all very terrible?”
She did not reply, and he drew a chair for her to the rail. When she was seated, he took up his position beside her, one arm against a pillar.
“I wonder, Hedwig,” he said, “if it is not terrible because it is new to you, and because you do not know me very well. Not,” he added hastily, “that I think your knowing me well would be an advantage! I am not so idiotic. But you do not know me at all, and for a good many years I must have stood in the light of an enemy. It is not easy to readjust such things—witness the reception I had to-day!”
“I do not think of you in that way, as—as an enemy.”
“Then what is it?”
“Why must we talk about it?” Hedwig demanded, looking up at him suddenly with a flash of her old spirit. “It will not change anything.”
“Perhaps not. Perhaps—yes. You see, I am not quite satisfied. I do not want you, unless you are willing. It would be a poor bargain for me, and not quite fair.”