“I’m quite well, thank you, Lady Beatrice,” I answered, looking down with keen pleasure into her sweet, childish face, and repressing a strong desire to take her up in my arms, as Cecil had done, and give her a kiss.
“You remember me, then?”
“Oh, yes!” she answered; “I remember you quite well! Your name is Philip, isn’t it? You told me that I might call you by it.”
“Well, we must go now, dear,” Cecil said, stroking her hair. “We’ve got to dress for dinner, you know.”
“Oh!” The exclamation was drawn out and the little face fell. Suddenly it brightened.
“Cecil, what do you think? I’ve got a pony, a real pony of my own. Will you come for a ride with me to-morrow? Please, please, do!”
“All right!” he promised carelessly.
She clapped her hands and looked up at me.
“Will you come too, Philip?” she asked.
“I should like to very much indeed,” I answered unhesitatingly.