Ellen gently but firmly unclasped the clinging arms. “Run along, dear,” she whispered.
“I will send those chocolates to-morrow,” suggested Robert.
Amabel seemed to do everything by sudden and violent impulses. All at once she ceased resisting. She slid down from Ellen's lap as quickly as she had gotten into it. She clutched her neck with two little wiry arms, kissed her hard on the mouth, darted across the room to Robert, threw her arms around his neck and kissed him, then flew out of the room.
“She is an interesting child,” said Robert, who felt, like most people, the delicate flattery of a child's unsolicited caresses.
“I am very fond of her,” replied Ellen.
Then the two were silent. Robert suddenly realized that there was little to say unless he ventured on debatable ground. It would be too absurd of him to commence making love at once, and as for asking Ellen about her work, that seemed a subject better let alone.
Ellen herself opened the conversation by inquiring for his aunt.
“Aunt Cynthia is very well,” replied Robert. “I was in there last evening. You have not been to see her lately, Miss Brewster.”
Robert realized as soon as he had said that that he had made a mistake.
“No,” replied Ellen. She obviously paled a little, and looked at him wistfully. The young man could not stand it any longer, so straight into the heart of the matter he lunged.