It was so quiet, and yet
in one moment the door would open, and his fate be decided. The feeling
was not unlike that of being at the dentist's; he was almost reckless.
But at the same time, to his immense surprise, Reggie heard himself
saying, "Lord, Thou knowest, Thou hast not done much for me... " That
pulled him up; that made him realize again how dead serious it was. Too
late. The door handle turned. Anne came in, crossed the shadowy space
between them, gave him her hand, and said, in her small, soft voice,
"I'm so sorry, father is out. And mother is having a day in town,
hat-hunting. There's only me to entertain you, Reggie."

Reggie gasped, pressed his own hat to his jacket buttons, and stammered
out, "As a matter of fact, I've only come... to say good-bye."

"Oh!" cried Anne softly--she stepped back from him and her grey eyes
danced--"what a very short visit!"

Then, watching him, her chin tilted, she laughed outright, a long, soft
peal, and walked away from him over to the piano, and leaned against it,
playing with the tassel of the parasol.

"I'm so sorry," she said, "to be laughing like this. I don't know why I
do. It's just a bad ha--habit." And suddenly she stamped her grey shoe,
and took a pocket-handkerchief out of her white woolly jacket. "I really
must conquer it, it's too absurd," said she.

"Good heavens, Anne," cried Reggie, "I love to hear you laughing! I
can't imagine anything more--"

But the truth was, and they both knew it, she wasn't always laughing;
it wasn't really a habit. Only ever since the day they'd met, ever since
that very first moment, for some strange reason that Reggie wished to
God he understood, Anne had laughed at him. Why? It didn't matter where
they were or what they were talking about. They might begin by being
as serious as possible, dead serious--at any rate, as far as he was
concerned--but then suddenly, in the middle of a sentence, Anne would
glance at him, and a little quick quiver passed over her face. Her lips
parted, her eyes danced, and she began laughing.

Another queer thing about it was, Reggie had an idea she didn't herself
know why she laughed. He had seen her turn away, frown, suck in her
cheeks, press her hands together. But it was no use. The long, soft peal
sounded, even while she cried, "I don't know why I'm laughing." It was a
mystery...

Now she tucked the handkerchief away.

"Do sit down," said she. "And smoke, won't you? There are cigarettes in