She obeyed. He returned to the porch, but remained in the exposed portion of it.
“Better come here,” she said, indicating somehow her side.
“Oh! I’m all right.”
“You needn’t be afraid of me,” she snapped.
He grinned awkwardly, but said nothing, for he could not express his secret resentment. He considered the girl to be of exceedingly unpleasant manners.
“Would you mind telling me the time?” she asked.
He took out his watch, but peer as he might, he could not discern the position of the hands.
“Half a second,” he said, and struck a match. The match was blown out before he could look at the dial, but by its momentary flash he saw Hilda, pressed against the wall. Her lips were tight, her eyes blazing, her hands clenched. She frowned; she was pale, and especially pale by contrast with the black of her plain austere dress.
“If you’ll come into the house,” he said, “I can get a light there.” The door was ajar.
“No thanks,” she declined. “It doesn’t really matter what time it is, does it? Good night!”