Take care of her. I can't tell you exactly what to
do because I don't know what's going to happen. She may meet somebody,
and then, Charles, you must go with them both. But bring her home if
you can. Don't go to sleep. Don't compose music in your head. Oh,
Charles, this is your chance!'
'Is it? I shall miss it. I always do the wrong thing.'
'Not to-night.' She smiled at him eagerly, imperiously, trying to
endue him with her own spirit. 'Stay here in the shadow. I don't think
you will have long to wait, and if you get your chance, if you have to
talk to her, don't scold.'
'Scold! It's she that scolds. She bullies me.'
'Ah, not to-night!' she repeated gaily.
He peered down at her. 'Yes, you are rather like her in the face,
specially when you laugh. Better looking, though,' he added
mournfully.
'Don't tell her that.'
'Mustn't I? Well, I don't suppose I shall think of it again.'
'Remember that for you she is the best and most beautiful woman in the
world. You can tell her that.'
'The best and most beautiful--yes,' he said. 'All right. But you'll
see--I'll lose her. Bound to,' he muttered.
She put her hand on his arm. 'You'll bring her home,' she said firmly,
and she left him standing monumentally, with his hat awry.
Charles stood obediently in the place assigned to him, where the
shelter of the Malleus' garden wall made his own bulk less conspicuous
and whence he could see the gate. The night was mild, but a little
wind had risen, gently rocking the branches of the trees which, in the
neighbourhood of the street lamps, cast their shadows monstrously on
the pavements.
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