"Comrades have a common purse; Why not?"
For a few moments her face wore the same strange expression, then, of a sudden her eyes filled and closed convulsively, and she turned her head, motioning me to leave her.
"Will you not share with me?" I asked, very hot about the ears.
She shook her head and I saw her shoulders heave once or twice.
"Lois," I said gravely, "did you fear I hoped for some—reward? Child—little comrade—only the happiness of aiding you is what I ask for. Share with me then, I beg you. I am not poor."
"No—I can not, Euan," she answered in a stifled voice. "Is there any shame to you in sharing with me?"
"Wait," she whispered. "Wait till you hear. And—thank you—for—your kindness."
"I will be here to-night," I said. "And when we know each other better we will share a common purse."
She did not answer me.
I lingered for a moment, desiring to reassure and comfort her, but knew not how. And so, as she did not turn, I finally went away through the sunlit willows, leaving her kneeling there alone beside the golden pool, her bright head drooping and her hands still covering her face.