He sank down irresolutely on the rug again. “I ought to go,” he murmured.
“Are we to remain friends?”
“That is for Hélène to say.”
“And Hélène will leave it to Homer!”
“To whom?” said Gethryn.
“Monsieur Homer,” said the girl, faintly.
“But that was a tragedy.”
“But they were friends.”
“In a way. Yes, in a way.”
Gethryn tried to return to a light tone. “They fell in love, I believe.” No answer. “Very well,” said Gethryn, still trying to joke, “I will carry you off in a boat, then.”