"Isn't it just like an elopement?" cried Miss Guile, and it was quite plain to him that she was vastly pleased with the sprightly introduction to the adventure. Her voice trembled slightly and she sat up very straight in the wide, comfortable seat.
"Is it really you?" cried Robin, and he was surprised to find that his own voice trembled.
"Oh," she said, with a sudden diffidence, "how do you do? What must you think of me, bouncing in like that and never once speaking to you?"
"If I were to tell you what I think of you, you'd bounce right out again without speaking to me," said he, smiling. "How do you do?" He extended his hand, but it was ignored. She sank back into the corner and looked at him for a moment as if uncertain what to say or do next. The shadowy red lips were smiling and the big dark eyes were eloquent, even through the screen.
"I may as well tell you at the outset, Mr. Schmidt, that I've never—never—done a thing like this before," she said, an uneasy note in her voice.
"I am quite sure of that," said he, "and therefore confess to a vast wealth of satisfaction."
"What do you think of me?"
"I think that you are frightened almost out of your boots," said he boldly.
"No, I'm not," said she resolutely. "I am only conscious of feeling extremely foolish."
"I shouldn't feel that way about stealing off for a cup of tea," said he. "It's all quite regular, you know, and is frequently done in the very best circles when the cat's away."