She understood me, and answered me, with a half-smile by asking:
"On such a night?" ...
And I imagined that she was laughing at me. That was how she used to laugh at me, once on a time, years ago.... I was annoyed. I said to her:
"Busie, we have something to say to one another—we have much to talk about."
"Much to talk about?" she replied, echoing my words.
And again I imagined that she was laughing at me.... I put in quickly:
"Perhaps I am mistaken? Maybe I have nothing at all to say to you now?"
These words were uttered with so much bitterness that Busie ceased from smiling, and her face grew serious.
"Tomorrow," she said to me, "tomorrow we will talk." ...
And my eyes grew bright. Everything about me was bright and good and joyful. Tomorrow! Tomorrow we will talk! Tomorrow! Tomorrow!...