"All right, Bess. I owe you another apology, I suppose. Anyway be it so.
And now, that I'm to stay--" A meaning glance through the open door.
"You were working, weren't you?"
"Yes."
"Go ahead, then, and I'll find something to sit on and watch. You
remember another morning once before, don't you--a morning before you
grew up--"
"Perfectly."
"We'll fancy we're back there again, then. Come."
"I am quite deficient in imagination."
"At least, though, dishes must be washed."
"Not necessarily--this moment at least. They have waited before."
"But, Bess, on the square, I don't wish to intrude or interfere."
"You're not interfering. I've merely chosen to rest a bit and enjoy the
sun." She indicated the step. "Won't you be seated? They're clean, I
know. I scrubbed them this very morning myself."
The man hesitated. Then he sat down.
"Bess," he said, "you've been pretty frank with me and I'm going to
return the privilege. I don't understand you a bit--the way you are now.
You've changed terribly."
"Changed? On the contrary I'm very normal. I've been precisely as I am
this moment for--a lifetime."
"For--how long, Bess?"
"A lifetime, I think."
"For four months, you mean."
"Perhaps--it's all the same."
"Since you did a foolish thing?"
"I have done many such."
"Since the last, I mean."
"No." Just perceptibly the lids over the brown eyes tightened. "The last
was when I asked you to sit down.
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