“Why, Miss Kenton!” said Breckon, stupidly.
“The sunset is over, isn’t it?” she answered.
“The twilight isn’t.” Breckon stopped; then he asked, “Wouldn’t you like to take a little walk?”
“Yes,” she answered, and smiled fully upon him. He had never known before how radiant a smile she lead.
“Better have my arm. It’s getting rather dark.”
“Well.” She put her hand on his arm and he felt it tremble there, while she palpitated, “We are all so glad you could go on to Rotterdam. My mother wanted me to tell you.”
“Oh, don’t speak of that,” said Breckon, not very appositely. Presently he forced a laugh, in order to add, with lightness, “I was afraid perhaps I had given you all some reason to regret it!”
She said, “I was afraid you would think that—or momma was—and I couldn’t bear to have you.”
“Well, then, I won’t.”