"No; I told Deborah to ring at seven to-night."
"She will think you are putting on the airs of the master."
"Don't you think it is about time? Or, it will be at half past six."
"Why, in half an hour?"
"Half an hour may make all the difference in the world."
"In some instances, yes?"
They were walking up and down the walk they had named years ago "the shrubbery path." He had found her in the shrubbery path in the old days when she used to walk up and down and dream her girlish dreams. Like Linnet she liked her real life better than anything she had dreamed.
Mr. Holmes had returned with his shoulders thrown back, the lines of care softened into lines of thought, and the slouched hat replaced by a broad-brimmed panama; his step was quick, his voice had a ring in it, the stern, determined expression was altogether gone; there was a loveliness in his face that was not in Miss Prudence's own; when his sterner and stronger nature became sweet, it was very sweet. Life had been a long fight; in yielding, he had conquered. He bubbled over into nonsense now and then. Twenty years ago he had walked this path with Prudence Pomeroy, when there was hatred in his heart and an overwhelming sorrow in hers. There always comes a time when we are through. He believed that tonight. Prue was not lighter of heart than he.
"Twenty years is a large piece out of a man's lifetime; but I would have waited twice twenty for this hour, Prudence."
"I wish I deserved my happiness as much as you do yours, John."