The fumes of the punch of a sudden took on themselves a form as of the pale phantom of Pamela Pursehouse, and the phantom cried, "Begone, flee from temptation whilst you may."
Before him the concrete form of Miss Lambert sitting in the corner of the window-seat and bathed in moonlight, said to him, "Hug me."
Her eyes were resting upon him, then she gazed out at the garden and sighed.
Charles took her hand: it was not withdrawn. "I must be going now," he said.
She turned from the garden and gazed at him in silence.
A few minutes later, feeling clouds beneath his feet and all sorts of new sensations around his heart, he was walking down the weed-grown avenue, Boy-Boy at his heels barking and snarling, satisfied no doubt by some preternatural instinct that do what he might he would not be kicked.
Ere he had reached the middle of the avenue he heard a voice calling, "Cousin Charley!"
"Yes, Fanny."
"Come back soon!"