That must be understood." Sylvia answered over her shoulder.
"Oh, yes; of course, Mr.Bassett.

Certainly." He meant to accompany her to Mrs.Owen's door, but before he could move she was gone, running along the path, a white, ghost-like figure faintly discernible through the trees.

He walked on tiptoe to the end of the veranda to catch the last glimpse of her, and waited till he caught across the quiet night the faint click of Mrs.Owen's gate.

And he was inexpressibly lonely, now that she had gone.
He opened the door of the living-room and found his wife standing like an accusing angel by the centre table.

She loomed tall in her blue tea-gown, with her brown braids falling down her back.
"Whom were you talking to, Morton ?" she demanded with ominous severity.
"Miss Garrison came over to bring a book for Blackford.