withdrew with dignity. She had so much the bearing of an insulted woman that he remained in surprise. Her mother came in, and he took and kissed her hands.
“How I have thought of you,” said he.
“And I,” she replied.
They sat down and smiled at one another, looking into each other’s eyes with a longing to kiss.
“My dear little Clo, I do love you.”
“I love you, too.”
“Then—then—you have not been so very angry with me?”
“Yes, and no. It hurt me a great deal, but I understood your reasons, and said to myself, ‘He will come back to me some fine day or other.’ ”
“I dared not come back. I asked myself how I should be received. I did not dare, but I dearly wanted to. By the way, tell me what is the matter with Laurine. She scarcely said good morning to me, and went out looking furious.”
“I do not know. But we cannot speak of you to her since your marriage. I really believe she is jealous.”
“Nonsense.”
“It is so, dear. She no longer calls you Pretty-boy, but Monsieur Forestier.”
Du Roy reddened, and then drawing close to her said:
“Kiss me.”