"Please come, Vivien," Isobel said, flushing a little. "It's not my fault, you know."
"Do you never break rules, Miss Vintry? It's what they're made for, you know."
"We've not been taught to think that in this house, have we, Vivien?"
"No, indeed," said Vivien with marked emphasis.
Harry laughed. "A pattern child and a pattern governess! Well, we must kiss good-night. You and I, I mean, of course, Vivien. And I'm sent home too, as usual?"
"You don't want to stay here alone, do you?" asked Isobel.
"Well, no, that wouldn't be very lively." His eyes rested on her a moment, possibly—just possibly—hinting that, though Vivien left him, yet he need not be alone.
One evening, a very fine one—when it seemed more absurd than usual to be ordered to bed or to be sent home so early—Harry chaffed Isobel in this fashion, yet with a touch of real contempt. He did feel a genuine contempt for people who kept rules just because they were rules. Vivien again interceded. "Isobel can't help it, Harry. It's father's orders."
"Surely some discretion is left to the trusty guardian?"
"It's no pleasure to me to be a nuisance, I assure you," said Isobel rather hotly. "Please come in, Vivien; it's well past ten o'clock."