Then she added: "But he's finer than either of us!"
"I told you four years ago what he is. He's all right."
"Yes," said Rose—"he's all right. And I am—now," she went on. "You've been good to me." She put out her hand. "Good-bye."
"Good-bye? You're going?"
"He takes me away."
"But not to-night!"—Tony's native kindness, expressed in his inflection, felt that it could now risk almost all the forms he essentially liked.
From the depth of Rose's eyes peeped a distracted, ironic sense of this. But she said with all quietude: "To-morrow early. I may not see you."
"Don't be absurd!" laughed Tony.
"Ah, well—if you will!" She stood a moment looking down; then raising her eyes, "Don't hold my hand so long," she abruptly said. "Mrs. Beever, who has dismissed the servants, is watching us."
Tony had the appearance of having felt as if he had let it go; but at this, after a glance at the person indicated, staring and smiling with a clear face, he retained his grasp of it. "How in the
