"Look at those pierrots who are taking their tub."
(She pointed to the sparrows that were attending to their toilets on the edge of the basin.)
"But, then—the other night" (he followed her thought) "the other night in the subway tell me now, you did see me then?"
"Sure."
"But you never looked my way. All the time you stayed turned in the other direction. . . . See now, just as at present. . . ."
He gazed at her profile as she nibbled at her bun, looking straight ahead of her with roguish eyes.
"Do look at me a moment! . . . What are you gazing at off there?"
She did not turn her head. He took her right hand, the glove of which was torn at the index, and showed the end of the finger.
"What are you looking at?"
"And you examining my glove! . . . Will you be so kind as not to tear it more!"
[In a distracted fashion he was engaged in making the hole larger.]
