"Yes—and I may hold his hand. And may I speak to him about ... about....
"About his blindness and the accident? Oh dear yes! You won't see that he's blind, you know."
"His eyes look like eyes?"
"Like beautiful eyes. I shall go and fetch him." She knew she was straining facts in her prediction of their recovery of sight, but she liked the sound of her own voice as she said it, though she knew she would not have gone so far except to give her hearer pleasure.
Said old Maisie to Adrian, whom Gwen brought back to sit by her, giving him the chair she had occupied beside the bed:—"You, sir, are very happy! But oh, how I grieve for your eyes!"
"Is Lady Gwendolen here in the room still?" said Adrian.
"She has just gone away, to the other room," said old Maisie. For Gwen had withdrawn. One at a time was the rule.
"Very well, dear Mrs. Picture. Then I'll tell you. There never was a better bargain driven than mine. I would not have my eyesight back, to lose what I have got. No—not for fifty pairs of eyes." And he evidently meant it.
"May I hold your hand?"