“Yes.” The girl’s eyes did not leave her work. “I remembered it the first thing when I got up this morning.”
“You remembered? And still you were surprised when I came. Didn’t you think I’d remember too?”
“I didn’t doubt it.”
“And come to commemorate the date, December the sixth?”
“Commemorate, yes. Come? I didn’t know. I hoped—until it grew dark; then—one loses certainty alone after dark.”
“It wasn’t that which you had expected all day to happen, though,” said Roberts, evenly.
The girl did not dissimulate.
“No,” she said simply.
One step nearer had they approached the mystery, one step only, but the man came no further—then.
“And weren’t you going to commemorate it yourself, since you remembered?” he digressed.