"How, in the name of wonder," said Katie, "did you ever, ever manage to get here?"
Harry bent down, and in a low, very low, faint whisper told her all about it, dwelling upon every little detail, and not forgetting to mention how he had longed to see her, and had risked everything for it. And Katie kept interrupting him incessantly, with soft cooing whispers of sympathy, which were exceeding sweet and precious.
And Katie proceeded to tell that she had been dreaming—and wasn't it funny?—about him; that she thought he had got into one of the windows, and was about to carry her off.
"And were you glad to see me?" asked Harry.
"Awfully!" said Katie; "just the same in my dream as I am now, only I can't see you one bit—it's so awfully dark."
"Are you afraid?" asked Harry, in a trembling voice.
"Afraid? Oh no. It's awfully nice, and all that, you know."
"But shouldn't you like to get away out of this?"
"Get away?"
"Yes, if I could get off, and get you off too?"