“Heed the warning then,” she cried, with a nervous laugh. As she spoke she stripped off her gloves, and then carefully proceeded to draw them on again. When this was accomplished she glanced at the Palace clock, saying, “Oh dear, how late it is!” furled her umbrella, then unfurled it, and finally looked at him.
“No,” he said, “I shall not heed his warning.”
“Oh dear,” she sighed again, “still talking about that tiresome statue!” Then stealing a glance at his face, “I suppose—I suppose you are in love.”
“I don’t know,” he muttered, “I suppose I am.”
She raised her head with a quick gesture. “You seem delighted at the idea,” she said, but bit her lip and trembled as his eyes met hers. Then sudden fear came over her and she sprang up, staring into the gathering shadows.
“Are you cold?” he said.
But she only answered, “Oh dear, oh dear, it is late—so late! I must go—goodnight.”
She gave him her gloved hand a moment and then withdrew it with a start.
“What is it?” he insisted. “Are you frightened?”
She looked at him strangely.
“No—no—not frightened—you are very good to me—”
“By Jove!” he burst out, “what do you mean by saying I’m good to you? That’s at least the third time, and I don’t understand!”
The sound of a drum from the guardhouse at the palace cut him short. “Listen,” she whispered, “they are going to close. It’s late, oh, so late!”