Part 112 (1/2)
”What do you mean?” she asked lightly.
”Meeting with you down here.”
Thus they talked for quite a long while. Long before they separated for the day, Mavis's eyes had been smiling into his.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
MAVIS AND HAROLD
”You're late!”
”I always am. I've been trying to make myself charming.”
”That wouldn't be difficult.”
”You think so?”
”I'm sure of it.”
Mavis spoke lightly, but Harold's voice was eloquent of conviction.
”I'm sure of it,” he repeated, as if to himself.
”Am I so perfect?” she asked, as her eyes sought the ground.
”In my eyes. But, then, I'm different from other men.”
”You are.”
”You needn't remind me of it.”
”Isn't it nice to be different from others?”
”And wheel myself about because I can't walk?”
”Is that what you meant? Believe me, I didn't mean that. I was thinking how different you were to talk to, to other men I've met.”
”You flatter me.”
”It's the truth.”
”Then, since I'm so exceptional, will you do something for me?”
”Perhaps.”
”Never be later than you can help. I worry, fearing something's happened to you.”
”Not really?”