“Our compact is going to hold in spite of all I’ve said?” she asked.
“For ever, so far as I’m concerned,” he replied.
“You're going to go on dreaming and imagining and making up stories about me as you walk along the street, and pretending that we’re riding in a forest, or landing on an island———”
“No. I shall think of you ordering dinner, paying bills, doing the accounts, showing old ladies the relics———”
“That’s better,” she said. “You can think of me to-morrow morning looking up dates in the ‘Dictionary of National Biography.’”
“And forgetting your purse,” Ralph added.
At this she smiled, but in another moment her smile faded, either because of his words or of the way in which he spoke them. She was capable of forgetting things. He saw that. But what more did he see? Was he not looking at something she had never shown to anybody? Was it not something so profound that the notion of his seeing it almost shocked her? Her smile faded, and for a moment she seemed upon the point of speaking, but looking at him in silence, with a look that seemed to ask what she could not put into words, she turned and bade him good night.
