Standing on tiptoe, on a joint-stool, placed upon the bench, with his back to the door, and a clasp-knife in his hand, this youngster, instead of executing his appointed task, was occupied in carving his name upon a beam, overhead. But I have not done so, and will not. ” She turned and looked at him. 167 “True love is forever, isn’t it?” It was something a child would say, a phrase she had seen scratched on bathroom walls and maple trees, but it made her sad. ‘How could you? No wonder mademoiselle is angry with you. ‘You have said you do not wish to marry me,’ she accused.
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