“I began to wonder why you did not come,” said Yeobright, when she had withdrawn a little from his embrace.
“You said ten minutes after the first mark of shade on the edge of the moon, and that’s what it is now.”
“Well, let us only think that here we are.”
Then, holding each other’s hand, they were again silent, and the shadow on the moon’s disc grew a little larger.
“Has it seemed long since you last saw me?” she asked.
“It has seemed sad.”
“And not long? That’s because you occupy yourself, and so blind yourself to my absence. To me, who can do nothing, it has been like living under stagnant water.”
“I would rather bear tediousness, dear, than have time made short by such means as have shortened mine.”
“In what way is that? You have been thinking you wished you did not love me.”
