“Yes, but when you came back six months ago, you had changed so much—I didn’t dare; and besides, you called me Mr. Craddock.”
“Well, I won’t any more,” she said, laughing; “I’d much sooner call you Edward.”
She did not add that the word seemed to her the most beautiful in the whole list of Christian names, nor that in the past few weeks she had already repeated it to herself a thousand times.
“It’ll be like old days,” he said. “D’you remember what fun we used to have when you were a little girl, before you went abroad with Mr. Ley?”
“I remember that you used to look upon me with great contempt because I was a little girl,” she replied, laughing.
“Well, I was awfully frightened the first time I saw you again—with your hair up and long dresses.”
“I’m not really very terrible.”
For five minutes they had been looking into one another’s eyes, and suddenly, without obvious reason, Craddock blushed. Bertha noticed it, and a strange little thrill went through her; she reddened too, and her dark eyes flashed even more brightly than before.
“I wish I didn’t see you so seldom, Miss Bertha,” he said.
“You have only yourself to blame, fair sir. You perceive the road that leads to my palace, and at the end you will certainly find a door.”