were together in the refreshment room of the Gare du Nord. They had time to eat a hasty luncheon, then the train carried them off.
"I'm quite mad," she said, kissing Leonor's hands. "What an adventure! It's I who have thrown myself at your head."
"I have thrown myself so often at your knees!"
"Very well, let it be understood that I am yielding to an old entreaty—and to my own desire, my darling boy, for I love you. Haven't I done what you would have liked often enough? But do you think I didn't want to as much as you? A woman has so little freedom, especially in a country place. How many women are there who would dare do what I have done, even that little? Getting lost when we were out shooting—that was all right for once. How frightened I was when you got into my railway carriage, against orders, one evening at Condé.... Many's the afternoon I've spent dreaming of you, you wicked boy.... There, you make me quite shameless. I'm glad."
And she took Leonor's head between her hands, kissing it all over, at haphazard.
