“It has set.”
“I’m waiting for the afterglow.”
And as she spoke, the whole sky from east to west flushed to a sudden lowering crimson. It was reflected on his face, on hers, shone from the many windows—red—red—a sea of golden red and copper colour, dyeing all things.
“But you have no business out here after sunset, have you?” he said.
“I don’t know. You should be judge of that.”
“I’m judge of nothing except the mood I’m in, and to-day I’m not sorry to find you here; but it’s rather a dangerous game to play in a place where strict discipline is observed. Don’t you know it?”
“No. I couldn’t imagine any punishment worse than being a prisoner.”
“Could you not? Oh, there are many worse. You are a prisoner at large, you must remember.”
“The reason why I stayed out is because I could think of nothing I had done wrong.”
“Are you a good judge of your misdoings?”