The young woman, with an effort, rejoined in monosyllables, so as not to allow the conversation to drop.

They had drawn back from one another, and were giving themselves easy airs, endeavouring to forget whom they were, treating one another as strangers brought together by chance.
But, in spite of themselves, by a strange phenomenon, whilst they uttered these empty phrases, they mutually guessed the thoughts concealed in their banal words.

Do what they would, they both thought of Camille.

Their eyes continued the story of the past.

They still maintained by looks a mute discourse, apart from the conversation they held aloud, which ran haphazard.