"What a bore it is having to go home this lovely evening!" discontentedly. "Certainly 'Time was made for slaves.' Well,"—with a sigh,—"good-night. I suppose I must go. I shall run down directly after breakfast. Good-night, my own, my dearest."
"Good-night, Cyril."
"What a cold farewell! I shan't go away at all if you don't say something kinder."
Standing on tiptoe, Cecilia lays her arms around his neck.
"Good-night, my—darling," she whispers, tremulously, and with a last lingering caress they part, as though years were about to roll by before they can meet again.
CHAPTER XVII.
"And, though she be but little, she is fierce."
—Midsummer Night's Dream.
"Rene. Suffer love! A good epithet! I do suffer love, indeed, for I love thee against my will."—Much Ado About Nothing.