“Might I—would you take a little stroll with me before you leave?” he ventured, with throbbing heart, to ask her.
“To-morrow? I mean, to-day?” she queried, a little confused.
“Yes; you see it is my only chance.”
“I will be waiting in the little reception-room of the hotel at ten,” she said, rapidly. It seemed to her that they were in a boat being borne onward by the current.
Jack and Russell walked together back to their dormitory building, where each man occupied with a room-mate a suite of two bedrooms and a sitting-room. As the gray of the sky warmed with rose color, Jack yawned mightily between two puffs at a cigar.
“I’d give a kingdom for a solid eight hours’ sleep,” he said, stretching his arms out. “But alas! I’ve got to be up betimes at the station, on duty, putting ‘them’ in the train, you know, or I think I’d take ‘cuts’ enough to tide me over a half a day in bed.”
“That is one of those things I can’t do for you, or I would,” said Russell. “I mean putting the ladies in the train.”
“Why, man, are you made of iron and whale-bone that you show not a sign of somnolence?” asked Jack.
“Not in the least. I never so heartily wished that I were constructed after that model as since this evening’s experience. But remember that you have danced many miles, while I’ve merely hung around on the outskirts.”