Were they going to follow her into her retreat, and catch her?
It would be too ignominious! Peeping warily through a small window of the summer-house, she saw two young people, apparently much interested in each other, strolling leisurely up.

To her immense relief they did not attempt to enter, but sat down on a seat outside the window.

They were so near that she could perforce hear every word, and was an unwilling but compulsory eavesdropper.
At first the conversation consisted mostly of tender nothings: "He" certainly called her "Darling!"; "She" replied: "Oh, Donald, don't!" and a sound followed so suspiciously like a kiss that Ingred, only a few feet away from them, almost giggled aloud.

She wondered how long they were going to keep her a prisoner.

It might be very pleasant for themselves to sit "spooning" in the garden on a mild May evening, but if they prolonged their enjoyment beyond eight o'clock, the hostel supper-bell would ring, and any girl not in her place at the table would lose a mark for punctuality.
"He" on the other side of the window, was waxing sentimental about old times and bygone days.
"I'm glad you're not a nun, darling!" he remarked fatuously.