finger on the path as though he were writing in the
dust — very thoughtfully he was moving his finger.

JEliana stared: 'Christophe, stop!5 she exclaimed,
cWhy are you so strange? I find you most strange. . . /

He sprang up: 'No, no! Do not say that, JEliana!
It was nothing at all ... but just for a moment . . .
never mind, it has passed.5 His voice shook with the
fear that since her coming he had almost forgotten.

She frowned angrily: 'Let us return,5 she said, CI am
sick of you both; you behave like children.5

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