"After ten, I think—if that clock is right."
She entered, reluctant, uncertain, peering up at the clock; then:
"I thought the front door had been left open and came down to lock it. What are you doing here at this hour? I—I thought I heard you talking."
"I was talking to my father."
"What!" she said, startled.
"Pretending to," he added wearily; "sit down."
"Do you wish me—"
"Yes; sit down."
"I—" she looked fearfully at him, hesitated, and slowly seated herself on the arm of a lounge. "W-what is it you—want, Louis?" she faltered, every nerve on edge.
"Nothing much; a kindly word or two."