what was superficial in the other existed no more, but was swept away by the flood of full sympathy. She and I against the world if need be!
A shiver ran through her; she opened her eyes wide and wider, looking round the room no longer in fear, but in a sort of wonder. Her gaze rested an instant on my face, she drew her arm from round my neck and rose to her feet, pushing away my arm. There she stood for a moment with a strange, fretful, ashamed look on her face. She tossed her head, flinging her hair back behind her shoulders. I had taken her hand and still held it; now she drew it also away.
"What must you think of me?" she said. "Good gracious, I'm in my nightgown."
She walked across to the looking-glass and stood opposite to it.
"What a fright I look!" she said. "How long have I been here?"
"I don't know; more than an hour."
"It was horrid in bed to-night," she said in a half-embarrassed yet half-absent way. "I got thinking about—about all sorts of things, and I was frightened."
The change in her mood sealed my lips.
"I hope mother hasn't noticed that my room's empty. No, of course not; she must be in bed long ago. Will you take me back to my room, Augustin?"
"Yes," said I.
She came up to me, looked at me for a moment, then bent down to me as I sat in my chair and kissed my forehead.
"You're a dear boy," she said. "Was I quite mad?"
