"If it—pleases you."
She was still busy with the grass, and I watched her, waiting to see her dark eyes lift again—and see that little tremor of her lips which presaged the dawning smile.
It dawned, presently; and all the unrest left my breast—all that heavy dullness which seemed like the flitting shadow of a pain.
"Tell me," said I, "are you happy?"
"I am contented. I love my Mistress Swift. I love and pity Lady Johnson.... Yes, I am happy."
"I know they both love you," said I. "So you should be happy here.... And admired as you are by all men...."
Again she laughed in her enchanting little way, and bent her bright head. And, presently:
"John Drogue?"
"I hear you, Penelope."
"Do you wish warm woolen stockings for your men?"