She glanced nervously towards Romanoff, and shivered. "Good-night," she said, holding out her hand. "I really must go now. I think the danger is over—I feel sure it is; and Granddad will be anxious if he comes back and does not find me."
"I'll see you to the door," said Dick. "I shall never cease to thank you for coming."
Leaving the paper on the table, and without looking at Romanoff, he opened the door to her, and passed into the hall.
"Yes; I shall never cease to thank you," he repeated—"never. You have saved me."
"What from?" and she looked at him with a strangely wistful smile.
"I don't know," he replied—"I don't know."
When they stood together on the gravel outside the door, he gave a deep sigh. It seemed to him as though the pure, sweet air enabled him to lift every weight from himself. He was free—wonderfully, miraculously free.
"Oh, it is heavenly, just heavenly here!" and she laughed gaily. "I think this is the most beautiful place in the world, and this is the most beautiful night that ever was. Isn't the avenue just lovely? The trees are becoming greener and greener every day. It is just as though the angels were here, hanging their festoons. Do you like my car? Isn't it a little beauty?"
"Yes," replied Dick. "May—may I drive you back?"
"Will you? Then you can explain to Granddad. But no, you mustn't. You must go back to your friend."