new friendliness came into her voice. "It's impossible, Willie. Everything is different now--everything. We made a mistake. We two young sillies made a mistake and everything is different for ever. Yes, yes."
She turned about.
"Nettie!" cried I, and, still protesting, pursued her along the narrow alley between the staging towards the hothouse door. I pursued her like an accusation, and she went before me like one who is guilty and ashamed. So I recall it now.
She would not let me talk to her again.
Yet I could see that my talk to her had altogether abolished the clear-cut distance of our meeting in the park. Ever and again, I found her hazel eyes upon me. They expressed something novel--a surprise, as though she realised an unwonted relationship, and a sympathetic pity. And still--something defensive.
When we got back to the cottage, I fell talking rather more freely with her father about the nationalisation of railways, and my spirits and temper had so far mended at the realisation that I could still produce an effect upon Nettie, that I was even playful with Puss. Mrs. Stuart judged from that that things were better with me than they were, and began to beam mightily.
But Nettie remained thoughtful and said
