She kept her eyes steadily averted; and she went on speaking--airy, inconsequential words.
"Dear me, if those girls _would_ only pull together! But then, what's the difference?
I supposed you had gone home long ago, Mr.Arkwright." "Miss Neilson, you _are_ crying!" Arkwright's voice was low and vibrant.

"As if anything or anybody in the world _could_ make _you_ cry! Please--you have only to command me, and I will sally forth at once to slay the offender." His words were light, but his voice still shook with emotion.
Billy gave an hysterical little giggle.

Angrily she brushed the persistent tears from her eyes.
"All right, then; I'll dub you my Sir Knight," she faltered.

"But I'll warn you--you'll have your hands full.

You'll have to slay my headache, and my throat-ache, and my shoe that hurts, and the man who stepped on my dress, and--and everybody in the operetta, including myself." "Everybody--in the operetta!" Arkwright did look a little startled, at this wholesale slaughter.
"Yes.