Haven't you, Mr.Hathaway ?" She rose slowly and, going over to Milly, put her arm around her waist and stood for one instant gazing at him between the curtains of the doorway.
"Good night.

My very proper chaperon is dreadfully shocked at this midnight interview, and is taking me away.

Only think of it, Milly; he actually proposed to me to walk in the garden with him! Good night, or, as my ancestors--don't forget, MY ANCESTORS--used to say: 'Buena noche--hasta manana!'" She lingered over the Spanish syllables with an imitation of Dona Anna's lisp, and with another smile, but more faint and more ghostlike than before; vanished with her companion.
At eight o'clock the next morning Paul was standing beside his portmanteau on the veranda.
"But this is a sudden resolution of yours, Hathaway," said Mr.Woods.
"Can you not possibly wait for the next train?
The girls will be down then, and you can breakfast comfortably." "I have much to do--more than I imagined--in San Francisco before I return," said Paul, quickly.

"You must make my excuses to them and to your wife." "I hope," said Woods, with an uneasy laugh, "you have had no more words with Don Caesar, or he with you ?" "No," said Paul, with a reassuring smile, "nothing more, I assure you." "For you know you're a devilish quick fellow, Hathaway," continued Woods, "quite as quick as your friend Pendleton.

And, by the way, Baker is awfully cut up about that absurd speech of his, you know.