"My poor little Bluebell!" said Du Meresq, crushing her in his arms. But the sleigh stopped; the man was getting down.
"My time is up, sir."
"Well, drive to where you took us up," said Bertie. "Bluebell, tell me quick, where shall I see you again?"
"I can't risk driving," said she, hurriedly. "When will you be able to walk?"
"Can't I see you alone at home sometimes? When are your people likely to be out?"
"They don't go out for days together, except on Sunday, to church; and Aunt Jane would suspect something directly if I didn't go with them."
"Let her, meddling old idiot! I shall come then, Bluebell."
"No, no, Bertie; pray don't! Could you walk in a week?"
"What an eternity! Well, meet me in the Avenue in the Queen's Park, at three o'clock on Wednesday. Here's this brute getting down again. Only just time to kiss those dear blue eyes. Addio Leonore. How the deuce am I to get home, I wonder?"
"Bertie, you'll never be able to walk."