We did not call
each other by such names in those days, did we?"
"I never could find names pretty enough for you," he replied laughingly.
She raised her eyes suddenly to his.
"You cared for me a great deal in those days, Norman," she said, gently.
"Tell me the truth--in your travels have you ever met any one for whom
you care more?"
He was perfectly calm and unembarrassed.
"No, cousin, I have not. As I told you before, I have really made no
friends abroad for whom I care much--a few pleasant acquaintances,
nothing more."
"Then I am content," she said.
But he was deaf to the passionate music of her voice. Then the distance
between them seemed to grow less. They talked of her home, Verdun Royal;
they talked of Beechgrove, and his plans for living there. Their
conversation was the intimate exchange of thought of old friends; but
there was nothing of love. If she had expected that he would avail
himself of Lady Peters' absence to speak of it, she was mistaken. He
talked of old times, of friendship, of childhood's days, of great hopes
and plans for the future--of anything but love. It seemed to be and
perhaps was the farthest from his thoughts.
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