'You know I would do more for you than that,' she answered.
'You witch!'
She took my arm.
'Come,' she said, 'come and sit in one of the transept chapels; it is quiet and dark there.'
It was deliciously cool. The light came dimly through the coloured glass, clothing the marble of the chapel in mysterious reds and purples, and the air was faintly scented with incense. Sitting there she seemed to gain a new charm. Before, I had never really appreciated the extreme beauty of the brown hair tinged with red, its wonderful quality and luxuriance. I tried to think of something to say, but could not. I sat and looked at her, and the perfumes of her body blended with the incense.
'Why don't you speak?' she said.
'I'm sorry; I have nothing to say.'
She laughed.
'Tell me of what you are thinking.'
'I daren't,' I said.