“Well, sister of mine,” said Tom, “when you say that, you are near my thoughts. We might be so much oftener together⁠—mightn’t we? Always together, almost⁠—mightn’t we? It would do me a great deal of good if you were to make up your mind to I know what, Loo. It would be a splendid thing for me. It would be uncommonly jolly!”

Her thoughtfulness baffled his cunning scrutiny. He could make nothing of her face. He pressed her in his arm, and kissed her cheek. She returned the kiss, but still looked at the fire.

“I say, Loo! I thought I’d come, and just hint to you what was going on: though I supposed you’d most likely guess, even if you didn’t know. I can’t stay, because I’m engaged to some fellows tonight. You won’t forget how fond you are of me?”

“No, dear Tom, I won’t forget.”

“That’s a capital girl,” said Tom. “Goodbye, Loo.”