"Very well," he said, driven to the half measures he had learnt to detest. "Promise me this—that you'll go straight to bed, and come here for breakfast without any conversation with the Jacksons."
The girl showed her relief, not unmixed with surprise at a strangely-worded stipulation.
"I'll do that," she said, after a little pause.
"Mind you—no talk. Just 'Good-night, I'm dead tired,' and that sort of thing."
"Yes," she agreed again, wonderingly.
"And the same in the morning?"
"I'll do my best."
"Off with you, then! I'll come to the door, and stand there, in case you're challenged by anybody."
"There's little fear of that in Elmdale at this hour," she said, with a new cheerfulness. He turned, ostensibly to pick up the electric torch. She was out in the hall instantly; when he rejoined her she was wearing the mackintosh.
"Good-night!" she said. "Next to dad, you're the nicest man I've ever met, and I don't even know your name."