But a gentle melancholy was upon Komazawa. It was with something of reproach that he answered the merry chatter of his companion.
“Yonder,” she said, pointing across the bay, while her long sleeve, falling back, disclosed her soft, dimpled arm, “is the naked island Hadakajima. See, it is not changed at all, Koma. Do you remember those times when you would carry me on your shoulder and step from rock to rock in the bay until you had reached Hadakajima?”
“Yes,” he said, watching her eyes.
She looked up at him sideways, then drooped her lashes downward.
“You would not do the same to-day?” she said.
“You are not the same—child,” he replied.
“Ah, no,” she sighed. “I am changed, alas!”
“Why ‘alas’?”
“The change does not please you,” she said.
“Ah, but it does.”