"Do you mind my just sitting still, do you mind letting me smoke and staying with me a while?
Perhaps after a little we'll walk about--shan't we?
But face to face with this dear old house, in this jolly old nook, one's too contented to move, lest raising a finger even should break the spell.

What WILL be perfect will be your just sitting down--DO sit down--and scolding me a little.

That, my dear Nanda, will deepen the peace." Some minutes later, while, near him but in another chair, she fingered the impossible book, as she pronounced it, that she had taken from him, he came back to what she had last said.

"Has he talked to you much about his 'liking' me ?" Nanda waited a minute, turning over the book.

"No." "Then how are you just now so struck with it ?" "I'm not struck only with what I'm talked to about.