Then, over her shoulder, she touched them, and drew them to her cheek.

He made no resistance.
"Shall we part without one kind thought ?" Her voice was softer still and so low and sweet that it seemed as though the words were spoken in the ripple of the tiny fountain.

There was magic in the place, in the air, in the sounds, above all in the fair woman's touch.
"Is this friendship ?" asked Kafka.

Then he sank upon his knees beside her, and looked up into her face.
"It is friendship; yes--why not?
Am I like other women ?" "Then why need there be any parting ?" "If you will be my friend there need be none.

You have forgiven me now--I see it in your eyes.