His mind went back across the years. How much he had lost of her—a child then, a woman now! If they were to bridge the gulf, it would be wiser to start with memories.
“I found what you’d written on the window—found it next morning, after you’d left.”
“Did I write anything? It’s so long ago. How wonderful that you should have remembered!”
“Not wonderful at all. If you’d meant it, you’d remember.”
She had gone too far with her evasions. Snuggling closer, their shoulders touching, she bent across him till their eyes met.
“I did mean it then. But you shouldn’t expect a girl to own it. I can prove to you that I meant it. I wrote, ’I love you,’ and then, lower down, ’I love you.’ I’ve—I’ve often thought about you, and about—— What times we had! D’you remember the bird-catcher and Bones? Poo
