“When do you want me to go?” He had already surrendered. When had he ever held out when a love affair was to be patched up?
“Now, right away.”
“No,—I'll go to-night,—she will be at home then,” he said at last, as if he had just made up his mind, the pipe having helped—“and do you come in about nine and—let me know when you are there, or—better still, wait in the hall until I come for you.”
“But couldn't I steal in while you are talking?”
“No—you do just as I tell you. Not a sound out of you, remember, until I call you.”
“But how am I to know? She might go out the other door and—”
“You'll know when I come for you.”
“And you think it will be all right, don't you?” he pleaded. “You'll tell her what an awful time I've had, won't you, Uncle George?”
“Yes, every word of it.”
“And that I haven't slept a wink since—”