"Say that you will think of what I have been urging."
"One must think," says she, in a rather refractory tone.
"You promise, then?"
"Yes; I shall think."
"Until to-morrow, then," says he, holding out his hand.
"To-morrow?"
She looks troubled.
"Yes; to-morrow. Don't forbid me to come to-morrow."
He presses her hand.
The troubled look still rests upon her face as she turns away from him, having bidden him good-bye. The last memory of her he takes away with him is of a little slender figure standing at the window, with her hands clasped behind her back. She does not look back at him.