happened. All three got to their feet, but Eden did not accompany the boys when they ascended the path. Instead, he stood motionless, looking in her direction, and, after a few moments in which she was wondering whether or not to reveal herself, he called: "Come along, come along, Minny! Don't you think you've been hiding long enough?"
She stood up, straightening her dress. She was not at all ashamed, but advanced toward him, laughing.
"How long have you known I was here?"
"All the time. I saw you playing at Indian, creeping from one tree to another. You're a little hussy."
She liked that. Her laughter became teasing.
"I heard every word you said!"
"No, you didn't!"
"Yes, I did!"
"What was it I told them that made them laugh?"
"Shan't repeat it!"
"Because you did not hear."
"I don't care! I heard all your poetry."
"It isn't becoming in a young girl to spy on men."
"Men! Listen to the child!"
"Well, the others are boys, but I suppose you'll admit that I'm a man."
"You! You're the greatest baby of all!"
"Me! I'm a disillusioned profligate."
"Then you're a profligate baby! Your wife has made a baby of you. Coming all this way to nurse you when she doesn't really care a damn for you."
"I suppose you wouldn't have done that?"
"Of course I should."
His laughter joined hers. They sat down on the bridge together.
As he held a match to a cigarette for her, he looked deep into her narrowed, mirthful eyes. "I wish I understood you!"
"It's a good thing for your peace of mind that you don't."
An obscure pity moved him to change the subject.
"How did you like my poems?"
