“I shall go to bed. I am a little tired.”
“Tired of what?”
“Why, I don’t know. I have a curious physical weariness.”
“You should let a doctor examine you.”
“Do you think so? Rest heals everything.”
“It is true. Do you remember the time when you were unable to go to sleep without having written me a letter?”
“Yes, I remember,” he said surprised; “but when was that?”
“It was before—before we lived together,” she replied, with a slight trembling of the lips.
“Some time ago,” he said simply, without meaning it.
He got up to go. He took her two hands in his and pressed them with an infantile caress over his face, minutely kissing their soft and fragrant palms, and, as she lowered her head, instead of kissing her eyes as when he came in, his kisses were immersed in the dark and odorous waves of her hair.