"Why?"
"If they were what you would call 'alive' I could not intrude upon them, could I? The laws of reticence, the respect for privacy, remain the same. I am conscious of no more impertinent curiosity concerning them than I am concerning any passer in the city streets."
"Have they gone?"
"Yes. But all the evening I have been hearing children at play just beyond the garden wall.... And, when I was a child, somebody killed a little dog down by the causeway. He is here in the garden, now, trotting gaily about the lawn—such a happy little dog!—and Hafiz has folded his forepaws under his ruff and has settled down to watch him. Don't you see how Hafiz watches, how his head turns following every movement of the little visitor?"
He nodded; then: "Do you still hear the children outside the wall?"
She sat listening, the smile brooding in her eyes.
"Can you still hear them?" he repeated, wistfully.
"Yes, dear."
"What are they saying?"
"I can't make out. They are having a happy time somewhere on the outer lawns."