"And you also, Mr. Harold? Are you glad to see me again?"
Harold bowed courteously.
"Of course; I have been counting the hours to Miss Fanshawe's return."
"Fibs! I can't believe it."
By-and-by she came to him.
"Why cannot we be friends, Mr. Purling? It pains me to be hated as you hate me."
"You are really quite mistaken," Harold began.
"I am ready to prove my friendship. I know all about Miss Driver—there!"
"Do you know where she is at this present moment?" Harold asked, eagerly.
"You really wish to know? Your mother will tell me, I daresay. How hard hit you must be! But there is my hand on it. You shall have all the help that I can give."