Man and Maid

If I can only keep this up, and not soften should I see her distressed,

and not weaken or give the show away, I must inevitably win the game,

perhaps sooner than I dare hope!

I felt glad she had not been there, so that I could pull myself

together, and put my armour on, so to speak, before we met.

I heard her come in just before luncheon and go to her room, and then

she came on to the sitting-room without her hat.

Her taste is as good as Coralie's, probably her new clothes come from

the same place, she appeared adorable, and now that I can observe her at

leisure, she seems extremely young,--the childish outline, and the

perfect curve of the little cheek! She does not look over eighteen years

old, in spite of the firm mouth and serene manner.

I had the poems in my hand.

"I see you have been reading these," I remarked after we had given each

other a cold good-morning.

The pupils of her eyes contracted for a second, she was annoyed with

herself that she had left the paper cutter in the book.

"Yes."

"After lunch will you read to me?"

"Of course."

"You like poetry?"

"Yes, some."

"This kind?"

Her cheeks became softly pink.

"Yes, I do. I daresay I should have more classical tastes, but these

seem real, these poems, as if the author had meant and felt what she was

writing about. I am no judge of poetry in the abstract, I only like it

if it expresses some truth, and some thought--which appeals to me."

This was quite a long speech for her!

"Then poems about love appeal to you?" I asked surprised.

"Why not?"

"Why not indeed, only you always have seemed so austere and aloof, I

hardly thought such a subject would have interested you!"

She gave a little shrug of her shoulders.

"Perhaps even the working bees have dreams."

"Have you ever been in love?"

She laughed softly, the first time I have ever heard her laugh. It gave

me a thrill.

"I don't think so! I have never talked to any men. I mean men of our

class."

This relieved me.

"But you dream?"

"Not seriously."

Burton announced luncheon at that moment, and we went in.

We spoke of the rain, and she said she liked being out in the wet. She

had walked all down the Avenue Henri Martin to the Bois. We spoke of

the war news, and the political situation, and at last we were alone

again in the salon.