“Only for a minute,” were the words written in pencil on Miss Craven’s card.
“Yes, I will certainly see Miss Craven,” said Harold.
“Very good, my lord.”
She stood at the door. The light outside was very low; so was the light in the room.
Between two dim lights was where Helen looked her best. A fact of which she was well aware.
She seemed almost pretty as she stood there.
She had made up pale, which she considered appropriately sympathetic on her part. And, indeed, there can scarcely be a difference of opinion on this point.
In delicate matters of taste like this she rarely-made a mistake.
“It was so good of you to come,” said he, taking her hand.
“I could not help it, Harold,” said she.