"I've been thinking over what you said yesterday," said she. "I can't do what you want; but I can suggest a compromise. You seem determined on restitution. Have you forgotten that you once offered it me in another form?"
"You refused it in that form—then."
"I wouldn't refuse it now. If you could be content with that."
"Do you remember why you refused it?"
She did not answer, but a faint flush told him that she had not forgotten.
"The same objection—the same reason for objecting—holds good now."
"Not quite. I should not be wronging any one else."
"You mean the Beaver, who dotes upon immortal verse?"
She smiled a little sadly. "Yes; there's no Beaver in the question now."
"You shall have the sonnets in any case. I brought them for you in place of the Aurea Legenda, and the Neapolitan Horace and—"