whistle! I don't believe the wind does either, here. It only whispers," he sought gracefully to explain; "and it sighs———"
"And I hope," she broke in, "that it sometimes laughs!"
The sound she gave only made him, as he looked at her, more serious. "Whatever it does, it's all right."
"All right?"—they were sufficiently together again for her to lay her hand straight on his arm. "Then you promise?"
"Promise what?"
He had turned as pale as if she hurt him, and she took her hand away. "To meet Mr. Prodmore."
"Oh, dear, no; not yet!"—he quite recovered himself. "I must wait—I must think."
She looked disappointed, and there was a momentary silence. "When have you to answer him?"
"Oh, he gives me time!" Clement Yule spoke very much as he might have said, "Oh, in two minutes!"
"I wouldn't give you time," Mrs. Gracedew cried with force—"I'd give you a shaking! For God's sake, at any rate"—and she really tried to push him off—"go upstairs!"
