meal, the big brown eyes were blinking fast and frequent, and the little head nodding downwards and suddenly starting up when it was approaching the table-cloth, at ever shortening intervals. I persuaded her to sit in the arm-chair in front of the window, so that 'she might look at the sea, since she didn't care to eat any more,' while I finished the stewed fruit and three shrivelled apples.
When I had peeled apple number two and cut it into pieces, I went round to have a look at her. She was fast asleep.
I went back and ate the pieces, and then apple number three, thinking all the while till I became quite incoherent in my ideas about things. The end of this was that I awoke with a start, and, having realised where I was and with whom, decided that bed was the best place for both of us. But when I came and looked at her breathing asleep, so pale and tired, I did not care to awaken her. And going, first opened and left open the sitting-room door, and then the bedroom door, and returned, intending to carry her up to bed. The dear child let herself be lifted with no more trouble than a few uneasy sounds and movements of her arms; and then up with her I went, and laid her softly on the bed. She sighed, and sank into unruffled sleep again. I made her as comfortable as I could, and shut the door.
Over the door there was a small window. The walls of the room were simply boards, polished. I went to the other end; opened the window, and leant out. Below was a garden. I could hear, but not see, the sea. The evening breeze still blew softly and coolly. I gave a large long yawn, and bethought me of lying down. I took off my coat, putting it on the back of a chair, and came and lay down quietly beside her. I must have fallen asleep almost immediately.
When I awoke, the room was half-full of sunlight; a bird was singing outside, and I saw Rosy, lying half a yard away, seriously looking at me.
'Good-morning,' I said.
'Good-morning,' she answered.
'… I wonder what time it is?'
