“And you will come?”
Kathleen rose, laughing.
“I have already accepted Joe's invitation,” she said. “Good-night, Mr. Blair.” She gave him her hand.
He held it as long as he dared, looking her straight in the eye. “I'm not nearly as jealous of Joe as I was!”
She was gone through the curtains, a flash of dainty grace. Then her face reappeared.
“If you care to call again some time, Dad would love to read you those notes on the Battle of Wolverhampton!”
Blair looked round the room. The dog, lying by the fire, got up, stretched, and wagged his tail. Blair pulled out his watch. “Giminy!” he said, “I'd better go down and let those poor devils out of the cellar.”