"My word! Half-past seven! How late for a little girl to sit up!"
She exclaimed indignantly at so gross an insult:
"I'm not a little girl! I'm nearly five!"
Her indignation was a fleeting one. He held her away; threw her up in the air till she screamed with the delight of the pleasant fear. Then caught and kissed her and set the mite on her feet again.
So he dealt with the child. Then, raising his hat, gave a final kindly smile in the direction of the governess; nodded and said a final good-bye.
Such was their parting. Each was full of thoughts of the other. He walked home wonderingly, thinking, why—for what reason—she had said eight o'clock. It sounded so—then he laughed at his stupid thought.
So life touches life a moment, thrills and bids it stay—as two drops of water in a peaceful stream may touch for an instant and in the next be parted by the waving reeds.
What of after meetings? Would they be guided to one another by that strange fate that we call Destiny?