She clutched him suddenly.
"Ouch, my hair!" said Stainton. "You're pulling my hair!"
"Oh!" Muriel's tone was all self-reproach. "I'm sorry. Did I hurt you, dear?"
"No," he smiled. "No. There, there!" He patted her head. "It's all right. Good-night, dearest."
"Good-night?" There was a question in the words as she repeated them, but she retreated, albeit slowly, down the ladder. "Good-night, Jim."
"Good-night, dear," he responded cheerily, "and—I do love you, you know."
She answered from below:
"Yes, Jim."
"You do know it, don't you, dear heart?"
"Yes, Jim."