"Well, young people, so you are making yourselves at home."
The sweet face, the eyes and lips with their contained mirth, the light, perfect form, the graceful carriage,—Waymark felt his pulses throb at the sound of her voice and the touch of her hand.
"You didn't mind waiting a little for me? I really couldn't help it. And then, after all, I thought you mightn't come."
"But I promised to."
"Promises, promises, oh dear!" laughed Ida. "Sally, here's an orange for you."
"You are a duck!" was the girl's reply, as she caught it, and, with a nod to Waymark, left the room.
"And so you've really come," Ida went on, sitting down and beginning to draw off her gloves.
"You find it surprising? To begin with, I have come to pay my debts."
"Is there another cup of coffee?" she asked, seeming not to have heard. "I'm too tired to get up and see."
Waymark felt a keen delight in waiting upon her, in judging to a nicety the true amount of sugar and cream, in drawing the little table just within her reach.