“Say ‘dear,’” whispered Peter, meanly.
“Please, dear,” said Leonore. Then Leonore went towards the stairs hurriedly.
“Not off already, Dot, surely?”
“Yes. I’m going to bed.”
“Come and have a cigar, Peter,” said Watts, walking towards the library.
“In a moment,” said Peter. He went to the foot of the stairs and said, “Please, dear,” to the figure going up.
“Well?” said the figure.
Peter went up five steps. “Please,” he begged.
“No,” said the figure, “but there is my hand.”
So Peter turned the little soft palm uppermost and kissed it Then he forgot the cigar and Watts. He went to his room, and thought of—of his birthday gift.