"Of course I told him that the Institute was nothing but an idea, and that, even if it were built, its being at Hatcham Ford was the merest idea, and that, even if it had to be at Hatcham Ford—well, I pointed out that two years are two years—(You needn't take the trouble to nod about that—it was quite a sensible remark)—that two years are two years and that very likely he wouldn't want the house at all by then."
"I see."
"So, of course, he apologized for his rudeness and promised not to be so foolish again, and we said good night quite friends. What have you been thinking about?"
"I don't think I could possibly tell you."
I was just opening the door for her. She paused on the threshold, lifting her brows a little and smiling as she whispered, "Something uncomplimentary?"
"That depends what you want to be complimented on," I answered.
"Oh, as long as it's on anything!" she cried. "You'll admit my compliments to-night have been terribly left-handed?"
"I don't know that mine hasn't a touch of that. Well—I think it's very brave to play games in the crater of an active volcano—exceedingly brave it is!"
"Brave? But not very——?"
"Let's leave it where it is. What about Cartmell's letter?"