Edwin said to himself: “Is it possible that he has come down specially to see this Hilda?” He thought enviously of Charlie as a free bird of the air.
“What’s she like?” Edwin inquired.
“You come up and see,” Charlie retorted.
“Not to-night,” said the fawn, in spite of Edwin.
“You come to-night, or I perish in the attempt,” said Charlie, in his natural voice. This phrase from their school-days made them both laugh again. They were now apparently as intimate as ever they had been.
“All right,” said Edwin. “I’ll come.”
“Sure?”
“Yes.”
“Come for a sort of supper at eight.”
“Oh!” Edwin drew back. “Supper? I didn’t—Suppose I come after supper for a bit?”