"Did you think you would ever hear from me?"
"I had given up hope."
"And did you wonder what had become of me?"
"Often. Why didn't you write before?"
"I wasn't ready."
"What does that mean?" Waymark asked, looking closely at her.
"Perhaps I shall be able to explain some day. If not, well, it won't
matter."
"And will you let me see you often?" said Waymark, after thinking a
little. "Are we to be friends again, as we used to be?"
"If you would care for it."
Waymark turned away as their eyes met.
"Certainly I should care for it," he said, feeling all at once a
difficulty in speaking naturally. Then he looked at Ida again; she
was bending down and stroking Grim's ears. There was rather a long
silence, which Waymark at length forced himself to break.
"Shall I bring you books again?" he said.
"I have very little time for reading," was Ida's reply. "It's
better, perhaps, that it is so."
"But why?"
"Perhaps it would make me discontented with my work, and want all
sorts of things I couldn't have."
"You have your Sundays free?" Waymark said, after another rather
long silence.
"Yes."
"Then we must have some expeditions again, now that the fine days
have come.
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