"That is strange. It appeared to me that he had a kind eye."
She splashed the water violently over her arms, and sponged her face, repeating this many times. I waited until her ablutions were ended, and asked, "Where have you been, Geraldine?"
"In the garden, digging, until my arms are tired; and now my head aches."
"But what is there to dig, dear? The beds are in order."
"I wanted exercise, and so I took a spade and dug. I was in a mood for digging. It pleased me to drive the sharp spade into the soft earth and fling it up all quivering. I was in a passion; and I dug a grave for my passion."
"Have you been resting under the trees? There are fragments of leaves in your hair?"
"I don't know how they came there. Perhaps I dashed the leaves about with my spade. Will you brush my hair out?"
She seated herself before the toilet-glass. How pallid and deadly was the reflection of her face! I loosened her yellow tresses; they flowed over my arm like silk. From time to time I caught sight of her black and glittering eyes watching me; but their lashes veiled them each time I met their gaze.
"I wish I could put a little colour into your marble cheeks, Geraldine. It makes me very sad to see you so pale."
"I would not make my boy sad for much," she answered.