"Exclusive," said Barry, firmly.
"Exclusive," she echoed obediently. And when she had added the word, she folded the sheet and gave it to Barry. "There is a little reminder for you," said she.
Barry went down to the street door with her, to watch her start homeward in the sweet summer darkness.
"Oh, one more thing I meant to say," she said, as they stood on the platform of what had been the old station, "I don't know why I haven't said it already, or why you haven't."
"And that is, Madam—?" he asked attentively.
"It's just this," she swayed a little nearer to him—her laughing voice was no more than a whisper. "I love you, Barry!"
"Haven't I said that?" he asked a little hoarsely.
"Not yet."
"Then I say it," he answered steadily, "I love you, my darling!"
"Oh, not here, Barry—in the street!" was Mrs. Burgoyne's next remark.