I should be so glad if you would." "Then I certainly will.

And now I must say good-night, Mr.Westmacott, for papa will be wondering where I am." "Good night, Miss Walker." He pulled off his flannel cap, and stalked away through the gathering darkness.
Clara had imagined that they had been the last on the lawn, but, looking back from the steps which led up to the French windows, she saw two dark figures moving across towards the house.

As they came nearer she could distinguish that they were Harold Denver and her sister Ida.

The murmur of their voices rose up to her ears, and then the musical little child-like laugh which she knew so well.

"I am so delighted," she heard her sister say.