She hesitated—stopped. Quite eagerly he endeavoured to help her on; interjected:
"Yes?"
"That I might be disappointed if I did not see you?"
The sigh he drew was of a plumbless nature. He answered, his soul in his utterance:
"You will not be disappointed."
The sweetest of sweet tones, speaking in the low, tremulous voice which may say so little but mean so much:
"Good-night!"
A grip of her hand that almost hurt her; a light in his eyes which had never found place there before, and he echoed her final words:
"Good-night!"
Softness in both their voices, in their whole manner. A reciprocated hand pressure.