"That tall building 'way, 'way down on the sky," she panted.
"Yes, dear?"—with a simper.
"Is that where my father is?"
The smirk went. Miss Royle stared down. "Er—why?" she asked.
"'Cause"—the other's look was met squarely—"'cause I'm going down there to see him."
"Ah!" breathed the governess.
"I'm going to-day," went on Gwendolyn, passionately. "I want to!" Her lips trembled. "There's something—"
"Something you want to tell him, dear?"—purringly.
Confusion followed boldness. Gwendolyn dropped her chin, and made reply with an inarticulate murmur.
"Hm!" coughed Miss Royle. (Her hms invariably prepared the way for important pronouncements.)