Lot coughed once, but he did not speak.

Madelon kept glancing at him as she picked.
Compunction and pity softened more and more her fiery heart, the more so since she felt the guilt of happiness in the face of the woe of another upon her.

Finally she said, with that fond reversion to the little homely truths and waysides of life with which the feminine mind strives often to comfort, that she would put up for him a jug of her blackberry cordial, and furthermore that she hoped his cough was better.

She said it with half-constrained kindness, not looking up from her berry-picking; but Lot lifted his head and thanked her and said the cough was nearly cured, with eagerness to respond to grace, like a child who has been chidden.
Then he watched her with bright eyes as she picked, his breath coming hard and quick.

"Madelon!" he said, and stopped.
"What, Lot ?" "You remember--the gewgaws which I--showed you, Madelon--the feathers and ribbons and satins, and the other things?
You cared not for them then.