"I think I may trust him with you, Sir," added she, taking up the candle. I do swear. Then he stood up and hailed a fiacre. He was nearly wincing. They were delighted. If ever I did meet a man I could love, I should love him”—her voice dropped again—“platonically. It was apparent, and then it faded into the quality of an inevitable necessity. She could not risk going in the door, lest she run into Larry or Cathy drinking a nocturnal glass of milk or Mike raiding the refrigerator for snacks. . "Come here," said the petticoated tyrant. .
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