“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!”