You ask no questions, and, except my name, you know nothing of me." "Well, Mr.Reinecourt, whose fault is that ?" "Do you want to know ?" Rose looked at him, then away.

Somehow of late she had grown strangely shy.
"If you like to tell me." "My humble little Rose! Yes, I will tell you.

I must leave here soon; a sprained ankle won't last forever, do our best." She looked at him in sudden alarm, her bright bloom fading out.

He had taken one of her little hands, and her fingers closed involuntarily over his.
"Going away!" she repeated.

"Going away!" He smiled slightly.