"Wait!" she cried. "Are you really, truly in earnest?"
"Most emphatically!"
"Then I—I shall surrender," she said, very slowly,—and seriously, I was glad to observe.
"That's more like it," I cried, enthusiastically.
"On one condition," she said. "You must agree in advance to let me stay on here for a month or two. It—it is most imperative, Mr. Smart."
"I shall be the sole judge of that, madam," I retorted, with some dignity. "By the way," I went on, knitting my brows, "how am I to get into your side of the castle? Schmick says he's lost the keys."
A good deal depended on her answer.
"They shall be delivered to you to-morrow morning, Mr. Smart," she said, soberly. "Good night."
The little window closed with a snap and I was left alone in the smiling moonlight. I was vastly excited, even thrilled by the prospect of a sleepless night. Something told me I wouldn't sleep a wink, and yet I, who bitterly resent having my sleep curtailed in the slightest degree, held no brief against circumstances. In fact, I rather revelled in the promise of nocturnal distraction. Fearing, however, that I might drop off to sleep at three or four o'clock and thereby run the risk of over sleeping, I dashed off to the head of the stairs and shouted for Britton.
"Britton," I said. "I want to be called at seven o'clock sharp in the morning." Noting his polite struggle to conceal his astonishment, I told him of my second encounter with the lady across the way.