"Did you miss me?" asked Marmaduke, tenderly.
"Hardly. You see, I had scarcely time—I have been enjoying myself so much. It has been a delicious day altogether. Have you enjoyed it, Marmaduke?"
"No. I was away from you." There is a world of reproach in his tone.
"True; I had forgotten that," I say, wickedly. Then, "To tell the truth, 'Duke, I was just beginning to wonder had you forgotten my existence. How did you manage to keep away from me for so long?"
"What unbearable conceit! I could not come to you a moment sooner. If I had to get through so much hard work every day as was put upon me this afternoon, I believe I should die of a decline. Don't you feel as if you hated all these people, Phyllis? I do."
"No, indeed; I bear them nothing but good will. They have all helped by their presence to make up the sum of my enjoyment."
"I am so glad the day has been a success—to you at least. Are you looking at that old turret, darling? There is such a beautiful view of the gardens from one of those windows?" This last suggestively.
"Is there?" I answer, with careless indifference. Then, good-naturedly, "I think I would like to see it."
"Would you?" much gratified. "Then come with me."
In his heart I know he is rejoiced at the prospect of a tete-a-tete alone with me—rejoiced, too, at the chance of getting rid for a while of all the turmoil and elegant bustle of the crowd.