I'll go now.' "Don't hurry," she observed, languidly.
"I hope you'll feel better in the morning." He offered her his hand, and she put hers in his for an instant, but withdrew it without returning his pressure, and he went away, sorely perplexed and bitterly disappointed.
He would have been still more puzzled if he had been told that not only had Madeline not forgotten about what had happened at the picnic, but had, in fact, thought of scarcely anything else during his call.

It was that which made her so hard with him, that lent such acid to her tone and such cold aversion to her whole manner.

As he went from the house, she stood looking after him through the parlour window, murmuring to herself--.
"Thank Heaven, I'm not engaged to him.

How could I think I would ever marry him?
Oh, if a girl only knew!" Henry could not rest until he had seen her again, and found out whether her coldness was a mere freak of coquetry, or something more.

One evening when, thanks to the long twilight, it was not yet dark, he called again.
She came to the door with hat and gloves on.