would have people feel no sympathy for the troubles of others, unless
they can be paraded in so many words."

"Decidedly you must be very tired, or you would take the trouble to
understand me better."

He put down his whip, to draw her cloak more closely round her, for the
dewy night air was chill, but she pushed it away.

"I am quite warm, thank you. How long the road seems to-night! Shall we
ever be at home?"

"We are almost there. See, that is your own acacia-tree."

"I am so glad. Don't turn up the lane. I can run up there perfectly well
by myself."

"Indeed you will not. Sit still, if you please."

"How tiresome you are, Maurice! You treat me just as if I were a baby."

"Do I? A bad habit, I suppose. I will try to cure myself."

His tone was so quiet, so free from either ridicule or anger, that she
grew more impatient still.

"Now pray do let me get out. I can see Mr. Leigh's light burning still,
as well as mamma's. They must both be tired of waiting. Why does your
father always sit up for you, Maurice? Is he afraid to trust you?"