It's getting late.

We shall have lots of talk.

You'll let me take you home?
We'll have a cab, shall we?
Lady Pollys don't walk about the streets on a wet night." She stood in thought.
"I want you to do something for me." "Right you are! Tell me and I'll do it like a shot, see if I don't." His arm again encircled her, and this time Polly did not talk of her 'at or her 'air.

Indeed, she bent her head, half hiding her face against him.
"You know that letter I sent you ?" "What's in it?
Something nicey-picey ?" "I want you to let me go to the 'ouse with you--just to the door--and I want you to give me that letter back--just as it is--without opening it.

You will, won't you, deary ?" "Of course I will, if you really mean it." "I do, it was a _narsty_ letter.