"Air-balls weren't in it! It was a football this time--good solid leather.

And we each kicked one goal,--a tie, you know.

For your advice went home to me, and I think my reply showed you the true lie of things; eh, Miss Champion ?" He was feeling seven again; but Jane saw him now through old Margery's glasses, and it did not annoy her.
"Yes," she said, smiling at him with her kind, true eyes; "we will consider it a tie, and surely it will prove a tie to our friendship.
Thank you, Dal, for all you have told me." Arrived in her room, Jane found she had half an hour to spare before dressing.

She took out her diary.

Her conversation with Garth Dalmain seemed worth recording, particularly his story of the preacher whose beauty of soul redeemed the ugliness of his body.