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‘You must go to bed, Agnes.’

‘Mustn’t I say good-night to him?’

‘No, I will say good-night for you.’

‘Don’t forget to. I shall ask you in the morning.’ The regular sound of talk still came from the parlour. A full moon passed along the cloudless sky. By its light and that of a glimmer of gas, Anna sat cleaning silver, or rather nickel, at the kitchen table. The spoons and forks were already clean, but she felt compelled to busy herself with something. At length the talk stopped and she heard the scraping of chair-legs. Should she return to the parlour? Or should she—? Even while she hesitated, the kitchen door opened.

‘Excuse me coming in here,’ said Mynors. ‘I wanted to say good-night to you.’

She sprang up and he took her hand. Could he feel the agitation of that hand?

‘Good-night.’

‘Good-night.’ He said it again.

‘And Agnes wished me to say good-night to you for her.’

‘Did she?’ He smiled; till then his face had been serious. ‘You won’t forget Friday?’

‘As if I could!’ she murmured after he had gone.