He stood still in silence for a moment.
"And besides," she added softly, "she trusts you too." There was a little emphasis on the word "she" and in her tone that was a reproach, and he looked at her in wonder.
"We cannot talk of her, you and I," she said, turning her eyes to the fire, "but you know what I mean, Marcello.

It is not enough to be kind.
We women do not think so much of that as you men fancy.

You must be true as well." "I know it," Marcello answered, bending his head a little.

"Good-bye, Aurora." "No.

Not good-bye, for you will come again soon, and then again, and often." "Shall I ?" "Yes, because we can trust each other, though we are fond of each other.
We are not children any longer, as we used to be." "Then I will come sometimes." He took her hand, trying not to feel that it was in his, and he left her sitting by the rather dreary little fire, in the rather shabby room, in the grey twilight.
As he drove through the wet streets, he went over all she had said, went over it again and again, till he knew her words by heart.