"Be all right directly. It's the waiting. Kind of you to stop and speak to me." His eyes strayed over the gold and blue of her cloak. "Been to a theatre?" he asked.
She shook her head and looked up at him with a child's perplexity.
"A play?" he amended.
"I've no one to play with," she answered simply. "See!" And she held out her empty arms.
"What's wrong then?"
"I don't know." She seemed to dwell on the last word. "I only thought—perhaps you could tell me."
"Tell you what?"
"Help me to find it perhaps. It seemed as if you were looking, too; that's why I came."
"Looking?" he repeated. "I'm waiting; that's all."
"Me too. But it's such a long time, and I get no nearer."