After leaving Horace, Ann went to the side window and tapped upon it. Receiving no response, she lifted the sash and called softly to her fiancé. Hearing her voice, Everett Brimbecomb appeared at the opposite window. The girl's heart thrilled with happiness as he smiled upon her.
"Run over a minute, Everett," she called.
"All right, dear heart."
His voice was so vibrantly low and rich that the girl experienced a feeling of thanksgiving as she stood waiting for him at the door. When he came, the lovers went into the drawing-room, where a grate fire burned dim.
"Horace says he'll go to Dryden, Everett," Ann announced, "and I'm so glad! I thought he might say that he was too busy."
Everett smiled, slipped his arm about the girl's waist, and for a moment she leaned against him like a frail, sweet flower.
Presently Ann noticed that a shadow had settled on her lover's face. Womanlike, she questioned him.
"Is there anything the matter, Dear?" she asked, drawing him to the divan.
"Nothing serious. I've been talking with Father."
"Yes?"