"
She sat leaning forward, staring at the dull red coals; and
Graham was silent for a moment.
"Then you have forgotten the old days altogether?" he said at
last.
"I never speak of them," she answered slowly; "no, I have not
forgotten--it is not in me to forget, I think--but I do not
speak of them; of what use? It is like a dream now, that old
time, and no one cares for one's dreams but oneself."
"Am I part of the dream too, Madelon? For I think I belong
more to that old time you talk about, which is not so very
remote, after all, than to the present. I had a little friend
Madelon once, but I feel quite a stranger with this
fashionable Miss Linders before me."
"You are laughing at me," said Madelon, opening her eyes wide.
"I am not at all fashionable, I think. I don't know what you
mean; what should make you think such a thing, Monsieur
Horace?"
"Well, your general appearance," he answered. "It suggests
balls, fetes, concerts, operas----"
Madelon shook her head, laughing.
"That is a very deceptive appearance," she said. "Aunt Barbara
and I never go anywhere but to classes, and masters, and to a
small tea-party occasionally, and to see pictures sometimes.
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