Perhaps you'd better wait in till about five." "Yes: I think I'd better.

He'd be sure to come back and not know anything about Mr.Butterwick, if there weren't anybody here," said Pollyooly.
He bade her good-bye; and let himself out of the house.

She returned to her darning.
It was as well that she had not left the house, for about twenty minutes later the front door was opened, and the passage and studio quivered gently to Hilary Vance's weight.

Pollyooly sprang up and met him at the door of the studio with Flossie's note.
At the sight of the handwriting, a large, gratified smile covered all the round expanse of his face.

But as he read, the smile faded, giving way to an expression of the liveliest surprise and consternation.
"What the deuce is this ?" he cried loudly.
"She said he was going to knock the stuffing out of you, Mr.Vance, and he might be here any time this afternoon," said Pollyooly.
"And what the deuce for?
What's it got to do with him ?" cried Hilary Vance.
"She said he was her fiongsay," said Pollyooly, faithfully reproducing Flossie's pronunciation.
"Her fiance ?" roared Hilary Vance in accents of the liveliest surprise, dismay, and horror.