“Not at all,” said Danby. “Any little thing like that.... Good day!”
“Good day!” she said.
But Danby did not move. The girl’s kind heart was reflected in her blue eyes. Never in his life had he needed sympathy and companionship so desperately. He felt that even his long-lost appetite would return if she were to invite him to eat with her.
She too was lonely, although her indomitable courage did not permit her to own it, even to herself. There was, too, something about the little man that was very attractive, something which made her feel sorry for him. She wished that he would ask her if he might join her and bring his own food. What was it about him which reminded her of some one she had seen before?
“Rather nice here, isn’t it?” she said.
He replied quickly, eagerly.
“Charming!” he said. “So sylvan.”
“So whater?”
“Sylvan. French for rustic.”
“Oh, French!”