The clock was on the stroke of twelve.
"Hasten to take off your wet things," said he; "and before you go, good- night--good-night, my darling!" He kissed me repeatedly.

When I looked up, on leaving his arms, there stood the widow, pale, grave, and amazed.

I only smiled at her, and ran upstairs.

"Explanation will do for another time," thought I.

Still, when I reached my chamber, I felt a pang at the idea she should even temporarily misconstrue what she had seen.