"I am not afraid of the night air even in October." "Very well, very well, Morris," she went on, and there was meaning in her voice; "then whatever happens don't blame me.

It's so easy to be rash and thoughtless and catch a chill, and then you may become an invalid for life, or die, you know.

One can't get rid of it again--at least, not often." Morris looked at her with a puzzled air, and stepped through the window which he had opened, on to the lawn, whither, with a quaint little shrug of her shoulders, Mary followed him, muttering to herself: "Now if he takes cold, it won't be _my_ fault." Then she stopped, clasped her hands, and said, "Oh! what a lovely night.

I am glad that we came out here." She was right, it was indeed lovely.

High in the heavens floated a bright half-moon, across whose face the little white-edged clouds drifted in quick succession, throwing their gigantic shadows to the world beneath.