experience taught him that Sara would not return for some time. He had been rambling and sniffing about, and had just found a totally unexpected and unexplained crumb left from his last meal, when his attention was attracted by a sound on the roof. He stopped to listen with a palpitating heart. The sound suggested that something was moving on the roof. It was approaching the skylight; it reached the skylight. The skylight was being mysteriously opened. A dark face peered into the attic; then another
during these past weeks.
“I do like you,” Sara answered. “I thought—you see, everything is different now. I thought you—were different.
Ermengarde opened her wet eyes wide.
“Why, it was you who were different!” she cried. “You didn’t want to talk to me. I didn’t know what to do. It was you who were