They talked in whispers until there were two appointees ranged along the wall. He was loath to go; she urged him gently.
"I can't work while you are here, dear; return for me at six—no," she corrected, struck by a sudden thought, "at six-thirty."
"Let me wait for you, dearest," he pleaded.
She waggled a playful finger at him.
"Good-by until later."
"Until six-thirty, cruel one."
"Yes."
"There is so much to be said, Gertrude dear."
"To-night."
He left her lingeringly. They tried to cover up their fervent, low-voiced farewells with passive faces, but after he had departed her every feature was lyric.