'I like your hat,' he said.
In spite of herself, a small smile flickered at the corner of her mouth.
'It IS rather nice,' she said, giving the hat a little pat with her hand.
She was still pretending to be angry, however. She took care that their bodies should not touch. As soon as they had reached the end of the stalls and were in the main street she stopped and faced him sombrely.
'What do you mean by writing me letters like that?' she said.
'Letters like what?'
'Saying I'd broken your heart.'
'So you have.'
'It looks like it, doesn't it!'
'I don't know. It certainly feels like it.'
The words were spoken half jokingly, and yet they made her look more closely at him—at his pale, wasted face, his uncut hair, his general down–at–heel, neglected appearance. Her heart softened i
