“Yes.”
“Why exactly did it come?”
He hesitated. Suddenly he felt reserved; but he broke through his reserve and answered:
“I saw I had made you feel sad.”
“Did you? Why was that?”
“Don’t you remember?”
She was catching the dream of the plain, perhaps, for she replied, with an almost preoccupied air:
“I don’t think so.”
“I wanted to make you happy again, very happy, to give you a treat as quickly as possible. The idea of this”—he flung out a brown hand—“came to me suddenly. That’s how it was. You—you don’t know how I wish to keep every breath of sorrow out of your life.”
“I know you do; I feel it. But you’ve put a sorrow in.”