“He won’t be at home until dinner-time.”
Burton groaned.
“But you’re coming back into the garden, aren’t you, after awhile?” She shook her head again.
“No, you forget the wedding,” she answered.
“Hang the wedding, Kitty!”
“I—I don’t think you ought to call me Kitty so—so much,” she protested.
“Don’t you?” he scoffed. “Kitty—Kitty—Kitty! But—but there’s another name I know, and if you like I’ll call you that—Kitty; shall I? May I tell you what it is—Kitty?”
“No, I—I don’t think so,” she answered in sudden alarm. She moved away as though meditating flight. “Good-by,” she said again.
“But it’s not good-by,” he pleaded. “I may come this evening, mayn’t I?”
“If you are not afraid of the Ogre,” she laughed.