"I wonder if that is what makes you so nice," said Barney, regarding her mignonne face instead of the phosphorescence. "You're a little brick. Do you know it? Are you coming back here again next summer?"
"Perhaps," returned Veronica demurely. "But meanwhile I live in Newark; quite near New York."
"I know, my dear, but when I get submerged, even little bricks can't make me come to the surface to breathe. Do you think your father would let you come over to lunch with me sometimes?"
"You can ask him," replied Veronica.
"Oh, dear, is that the way you feel about it?"
"Just the way."
"All ashore that's going ashore." It was Philip's voice. "Come on, Kelly, and Little V."
Diana had been talking with Mrs. Lowell. She kissed her now hurriedly, and stood rigid. The time had come. She would never go to the opera. She would never see him again. Meanwhile, she joined her mother's gracious reception of the parting courtesies, and shook hands with all the guests alike. They went down the guarded stairway. It was midnight, and the cove was very still. Diana could not watch the departure of the small boat.
"I'm tired," she said, stifling a yawn. "Good-night, dears."