Ingram’s eyes went from him to Raymond, with quick curiosity. “Hallo, what have you been up to, young Bart?”
“Nothing. You mind your own business!”
“Love’s young dream!” murmured Eugene.
“Oh, is that all!” said Ingram, disappointed.
At this point, Myra, who had not been paying any attention to the interchange, appealed to her husband to corroborate her statement that Bertram’s housemaster had said that that young gentleman had plenty of ability, if he would but learn to take more pains; and under cover of the animated account, which followed, of Rudolph’s and Bertram’s prowess in the field of athletic achievement, Bart lounged out of the room.
He found Loveday in one of the passages upstairs, curled up in a deep window-embrasure, and looking pensively down upon Clara’s fern-garden. She turned her head when she heard his step, for she had been expecting him, and embraced him with her warm, slow smile. He pulled her up from the window-seat without ceremony, and into his strong young arms. “Gosh, it’s an age since I saw you last!” he said in a thickened voice.
Her body yielded for a moment; she kissed him with parted lips; but murmured, with a quiver of laughter in her voice, as he at last raised his head: “"This morning!”
“For two minutes!”
“Half-an-hour!”
“It isn’t good enough. I can’t go on like this! Here, come into the schoolroom!”