It is not
fair, Lancy. You have quite spoiled our good times for the future."
"No, not spoiled them, only made them dearer. Dexie, you shan't be vexed
with me. Come over on the sofa and let me talk to you."
"No; you said you would let me go home, and I want to go now, this very
"Very well." He rose and pulled her shawl over her shoulders, then followed
her silently into the shelter of her own door. He would have followed her
into the house as well, forgetting that Dexie's face would tell tales, but
she stopped him at the door.
"I don't want to see you any more to-night, Lancy; I really don't," she
said, as they stood a moment in the front hall.
"You are displeased with me for telling you that I love you. Perhaps I
should have waited a little longer before speaking about it; but, Dexie, I
couldn't keep it to myself. I had to tell you."
"I would not have been any more pleased to hear it, even if you _had_ kept
it longer;" and, lifting her eyes to his face for a moment, added, "I am
not exactly vexed with you, Lancy, but I'm not pleased either. Now, go
home; do." Being thus summarily dismissed, there was no choice left him;
but before he turned to obey her command, he raised her hand to his lips,
and whispered a tender "Good-night, Dexie.