He was obviously very much in earnest, and she had found him far from uninteresting.
"By all means," she answered pleasantly, "if you care to.

I have a little flat in Culpole Street--No.

81.

You must come and have tea with me one afternoon." "Thank you," he said simply, with a sigh of immense relief.
He walked with her to the gate, and they talked about rhododendrons.
Then he watched her till she became a speck in the dusty road--she had refused a carriage, and he had had tact enough not to press any hospitality upon her.
"His little girl!" he murmured.

"Monty's little girl!".