Come on, Mr.Bantling, and take care you get me a good one." Mr.Bantling promised to do his best, and the two took their departure, leaving the girl and her cousin together in the square, over which a clear September twilight had now begun to gather.

It was perfectly still; the wide quadrangle of dusky houses showed lights in none of the windows, where the shutters and blinds were closed; the pavements were a vacant expanse, and, putting aside two small children from a neighbouring slum, who, attracted by symptoms of abnormal animation in the interior, poked their faces between the rusty rails of the enclosure, the most vivid object within sight was the big red pillar-post on the southeast corner.
"Henrietta will ask him to get into the cab and go with her to Jermyn Street," Ralph observed.

He always spoke of Miss Stackpole as Henrietta.
"Very possibly," said his companion.
"Or rather, no, she won't," he went on.

"But Bantling will ask leave to get in." "Very likely again.

I'm glad very they're such good friends." "She has made a conquest.