“What was that?”
“You said, ‘Oh, Dion, if you knew how something in me cares for freshness and for peace.’”
“You remember my very words!”
“Yes.”
“Then you understand?”
“And besides,” he said slowly, and as if with some hesitation, “you used to long for a very quiet life, for the religious life; didn’t you?”
“Once, but it seems such ages ago.”
“And yet Robin’s not a year old yet.”
She looked at him with a sudden, and almost intense, inquiry; he was smiling at her.
“Robino maestro di casa!” he added.