The night
outside was still and veiled, but of the flash of white he was
certain--and of a step on the gravel.
Something fell beside him, thrown from outside. He picked it up, and
found a flower weighted by a stone, tied into a fold of ribbon.
"Madcap!" he said to himself, his heart beating to suffocation.
Then he stole out of his room, and down a small, winding staircase which
led directly to the garden and a door beside the orangery. He had to
unbolt the door, and as he did so a dog in one of the basement rooms
began to bark. But there could be no flinching, though the whole thing
was of an imprudence which pricked his conscience. To slip along the
shadowed side of the orangery, to cross the space of clouded light
beyond, and gain the darkness of the ilex avenue beyond was soon done.
Then he heard a soft laugh, and a little figure fled before him. He
followed and overtook.
Kitty Bristol turned upon him.
"Didn't I throw straight?" she said, triumphantly. "And they say girls
can't throw."
"But why did you throw at all?" he said, capturing her hand.
"Because I wanted to talk to you. And I was restless and couldn't sleep.
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