"Me?" Now he was close to her, and she saw his guarded eyes soften unwillingly.
"Somebody called. Didn't you hear the dog barking? Somebody called 'George!'"
"Perhaps," she ventured in the falsely innocent manner which both recognized as foolish and unworthy and in which both took a different delight, "perhaps it was—thought-reading!"
"With the dog?" he sneered.
"You and the dog," she said, joining them deliberately. "It's getting so dark that I can hardly see your cross face. That's a good thing, because I want to say thank you for driving Uncle Alfred and Notya to the station."
"That's all right," he said, and added with a sullen curiosity, "Is he the one who's going to adopt you?"
"Yes."
"He hasn't done it yet?"
"I'm not sure that I want to go. George, shall I tell you something? Something charming, a pillar of cloud by day and of fire by night—I did call you!"
"Well," he said after a pause, "I knew that."