“Is this a haunt of yours?” he asked.
“Yes, I suppose it is. It is so near the pension—and I love the open air.”
“So do I. That is another point of contact. We discovered a good many, if you remember, at Christmas. What have you been doing since then?”
“Forgetting a good many old lessons, and trying to teach myself a few new ones. Or, if you like, making bricks without straw—trying to live a life without incidents.”
“Which less epigrammatically means that you have had a dull, cheerless time. I am sorry. You have been here all the winter and spring?”
“Yes. Where else should I have been?”
“In a happier place,” said Raine. “You don't seem made to lead this monotonous existence.”
“Oh! I suppose I am, since I am leading it. Human beings, like water, find their own level. The Pension Boccard seems to be mine.”
“You smile, as if you liked it,”, he said, rather puzzled.
“Would you have me cry to you?”