"Are you, Jack?" he asked.
"She says so," was the light reply.
"Well, as I'm not invited I guess I had better be moseying along."
"Oh, you can come if you want to," Florence said naïvely.
"Oh, ho; if I want to! Well I guess not!" Crowley exclaimed and moved away, calling over his shoulder: "Good-night to you—Venus and Adonis."
"Isn't he a good sort?" Florence asked as the youth's tall figure disappeared around the corner of the red museum.
"Ripping!" Houston replied emphatically, "only I wish he weren't such an old Dryasdust...."
He carried the raquets under his arm with his coat wrapped about them. At the door of her home he started to put on his coat.
"You needn't," she said, perceiving his intent—"leave it off; it will be cooler. Shall we go in?" She took the coat and flung it over a chair in the hall and led the way into the little round room.