Janet wondered as she walked back to Hopper Hall if she would ever forget that June night. Her hero had fulfilled her expectation. He was a fact, a tangible reality, by whose side she was walking, to whose voice she was listening.
The summer stretched out into an indefinite number of beautiful days, and nights like this, when they could float out into the dimness in a white-winged boat; days when youthful fun and jollity would hasten the moments along. Her little heart beat fast, and it was well that none could see the strange new softness which showed in her brown eyes. She wanted to get off by herself and dream it all over.
She was so quiet, and gave such monosyllabic answers to Teddy's remarks that the latter wondered, and asked: "What is the matter, Janet? Did Stuart have any bad news for you?"
"No," answered Janet. "I think I am only tired."
"But we had a perfectly lovely time, didn't we?" said Teddy.
"Lovely," returned Janet.
"Did you guess the right one? Honor bright, now."
"No, I didn't."
"I did," said Teddy triumphantly.
Janet made no reply. She was already in her own room, and was eager for the silence and the darkness when she might dream her girlish dreams undisturbed.