“Well, be a swan, then! Be anything you like. But come on, let’s make for the dining-room. We’ll probably find Jim there, but don’t make any noise, or everybody upstairs will think we’re burglars and shoot us.”
Philip switched off the library light, and taking Patty’s hand, led her through the dim hall and into the dining-room. At the end of this room was a wide bay window, which let in a perfect flood of moonlight.
“Oh,” exclaimed Patty, “what a picture! From my room you couldn’t tell it was moonlight at all.”
The picture from the window was a far sweep of hills, white with snow, and glistening in the moonlight. In the foreground, evergreen trees, laden with snow, stood about like sentinels,—and a big, yellow three-quarter moon was nearing the western horizon.
“Isn’t it wonderful, Philip?” whispered Patty, almost awed at the sight.
“Yes, dear,” he said, still holding her hand in both his own. “Patty, you have a wonderful appreciation of the beautiful.”
“Nobody could help loving such a sight as that.”
“And nobody could help loving such a girl as you!” exclaimed Philip, drawing her into his arms. “Patty, darling, you know I love you! Patty, do care for me a little bit, won’t you?”
“Don’t, Philip,” and Patty drew gently away from him. “Please don’t talk to me like that! Oh, I oughtn’t to be here! Let me go, Philip,—I know this isn’t right.”
“It is right, Patty, darling; because I love you, and I want you for all my own. Say you love me, and that will make everything all right!”