The twilight was taking the blue out of the water, but the beauty was still there—with the lights on the anchored boats twinkling like stars in the grayness, and the lighthouse making a great moon above them.
"When will you see him, Diana?"
"To-night."
"Then I'm going to bed."
"You're not—I want you to meet him, Sophie."
"You want him every bit for yourself. Don't be a hypocrite, Diana."
Diana laid her hands on Sophie's shoulders and shook her a little, laughing.
"Sophie, do you ever feel so young that you are almost wild with it—as if there hadn't been any years since you wore pinafores and pigtails?"
"No—I'm thirty-five, Diana."
"Don't shout it from the housetops. I'm a very few years behind. What a lot of wasted years, Sophie."