Yes, I'm sorry." "You can give me joy infinitely greater than any sorrow I've had by you," said I in a low voice.
On this she sat silent for a full minute, seeming to study my face.

Then she looked to right and left, as though she would fain have escaped.

She laughed a little, but grew grave again, saying, "I don't know why I laughed," and sighing heavily.

I watched every motion and change in her, waiting for her to speak again.

At last she spoke.
"You won't be angry with me, Simon ?" she asked coaxingly.
"Why, no," I answered, wondering.
"Nor run quite mad, nor talk of death, nor any horrors ?" "I'll hear all you say calmly," I answered.
She sat looking at me in a whimsical distress, seeming to deprecate wrath and to pray my pardon yet still to hint amusement deep-hidden in her mind.