Page:The Prussian officer, and other stories, Lawrence, 1914.djvu/204

 “How long were you here?”

“Two years.”

He ate reflectively.

“I should ha’ thought you’d rather go to a fresh place,” he said at length..

She sat very silent, and then, delicately, put out a feeler.

“Why?” she said. “Do you think I shan’t enjoy myself?”

He laughed comfortably, putting the marmalade thick on his bread.

“I hope so,” he said.

She again took no notice of him.

“But don’t say anything about it in the village, Frank,” she said casually. “Don’t say who I am, or that I used to live here. There’s nobody I want to meet, particularly, and we should never feel free if they knew me again.”

“Why did you come, then?”

“&thinsp;‘Why?’ Can’t you understand why?”

“Not if you don’t want to know anybody.”

“I came to see the place, not the people.”

He did not say any more.

“Women,” she said, “are different from men. I don’t know why I wanted to come—but I did.”

She helped him to another cup of coffee, solicitously.

“Only,” she resumed, “don’t talk about me in the village.” She laughed shakily. “I don’t want my past brought up against me, you know.” And she moved the crumbs on the cloth with her finger-tip.

He looked at her as he drank his coffee; he