In my present frame of mind, it would be physically impossible for me to salute her with the bland civility which society enjoins on people of our stage of civilization.

I therefore remain sitting on my heap.
Presently, Roger emerges alone.

He does not see me at first, but looks up the road, and down the road, in search of me.

When, at last, he perceives me, no smile--( as has ever hitherto been his wont)--kindles his eyes and lips.

With unstirred gravity, he approaches me.
"Here you are _at last_!" cry I, scampering to meet him, but with a stress, from which human nature is unable to refrain, on the last two words.
"At last ?" he repeats in a tone of surprise; "am I over time ?--Yes"-- (looking at his watch)--"so I am! I had no idea of it; I hope you have not been long waiting." "_I_ was here to the minute," reply I, curtly; and again my tongue declines to refrain from accentuation.
"I beg your pardon!" he says, still speaking with unnecessary seriousness, as it seems to me, "I really had no idea of it." "I dare say not," say I, with a little wintry grin; "I never heard that they had a clock in paradise." "_In paradise!_" he repeats, looking at me strangely with his keen, clear eyes, that seem to me to have less of a caress in them than they ever had before on meeting mine.