"Thou art very silent," she said at last.
"No, I am talking; but not to you—of you, perhaps."
"Indeed," and she ceased to express further desire to be enlightened, and fell to asking questions about irregular French verbs.
Just before they reached the house, Margaret said: "I have often meant to ask thee to tell me what thou didst do in the city. Friend Schmidt said to mother that Stephen Girard could not say too much of thee. Tell me about it, please."
"No," he returned abruptly. "It is a thing to forget, not to talk about."
"How secretive thou art!" she said, pouting, "and thou wilt never, never speak of France." In an instant she knew she had been indiscreet as he returned:
"Nor ever shall. Certainly not now."
"Not—not even to me?"
"No." His mind was away in darker scenes.
Piqued and yet sorry, she returned, "Thou art as abrupt as Daniel Offley."