“It is a privilege I long for,” I answered.
“You did not begin with promise,” she said.
I released her hand, and she drew the ivory from her gown and gave it me. I kissed it.
“I will go to Monsieur Isadore's and get the frame,” I said.
“When I give you permission,” said Hélène, gently.
I have written this story for her eyes.