“I wish we could go on talking,” sighed Leonore. “But the people are beginning to go downstairs. I suppose I must go, so as to say good-bye. I only wish I could help you in charity.”
“You have given me a great charity this evening,” said Peter.
“You mean the photographs,” smiled Leonore.
“No.”
“What else?”
“You have shown me the warmest and most loving of hearts,” said Peter, “and that is the best charity in the world.”
On the way down they met Lispenard coming up. “I’ve just said good-night to your mother. I would have spoken to you while we were in your room, but you were so engrossed that Miss Winthrop and I thought we had better not interrupt.”
“I didn’t see you,” said Leonore.
“Indeed!” said Lispenard, with immense wonderment. “I can’t believe that. You know you were cutting us.” Then he turned to Peter. “You old scamp, you,” he whispered, “you are worse than the Standard Oil.”
“I sent for you some time ago, Leonore,” said her mother, disapprovingly. “The guests have been going and you were not here.”