The clock on the mantel above the fireplace chimed midnight. He rose.
"I have been thoughtless," he said. "I had forgotten the time."
She walked with him to the door.
"Good-night," he said, "and thank you."
"Good-night," she said, dropping the hand she had given him to her side.
He strode out into the night. Subconsciously he waited for the door to close behind him. Each step took him farther toward the street and yet he did not hear the click of the latch.
At the sidewalk he turned to look back.
She was standing, framed in the soft light shining through the doorway, looking out at him. He waved his hand. He saw her hand flutter and then the door closed.
"'Still my heart has wings,'" he repeated to himself as he turned away.
* * * * *