“You know,” she added, “I liked you from that first moment when you fished me out of the river. It seems that you are fated to act always the chivalrous part toward me.”
“I would ask no better fate. Hilda, you have seen Allan Hope? Not yet?”
“No; not yet.” Hilda’s face grew serious. “He is coming to tea this afternoon.”
“But you must be there.”
“Yes, I suppose I must.” This affectation of girlish indifference seemed to Odd more significant than noticeable shyness.
“We must take a cab,” he said, trying to keep his voice level.
“Oh, it makes no difference. Cabs, you see, are never reckoned with in my arrivals. I am warranted to be late.”
“But you must not be late.”
“But if I want to?” There was certainly a touch of roguery in her eyes.
“If you want to and if I want you to, it shows that you are cruel and I conscienceless. Here is a cab. Away with you, Hilda. Au revoir.”