She would find it easier to be open with you.' 'I do not think so, Max.

I--But what does it matter what I think?
There is one question I want to ask: do you think Mr.Hamilton was at all to blame ?' 'I am Hamilton's friend,' he returned, in a tone that made me regret that I had asked the question, and then he stood still and waited for the others to join us.

Indeed, he did not speak again, except to wish us good-night.
'It is the loveliest Christmas Day I have ever spent,' cried Jill, flinging herself on me, and she was no light weight.

'I do like Mr.Tudor so; he is nicer than any one I know, more like a nice funny boy than a man, only he tells me he can be grave sometimes.

What was the matter with Mr.Cunliffe ?--he looks tired and worried and not inclined to laugh.' And so Jill chattered on without waiting for my answers, talking in the very fulness of her young heart, until I pretended again to be asleep, and then she consented to be quiet.
I saw Max for a few minutes the next day when he came to fetch my letter.
He looked more like himself, only there was still a tired expression about his eyes; but he talked very cheerfully of what he should do during the few days he intended to remain in town.
I made him promise to be very diplomatic with Aunt Philippa, and he most certainly kept his word, for the next morning I received a letter that surprised us both, and that drove Jill nearly frantic with joy.
Aunt Philippa's letter was very long and rambling.