"I just soon," he agreed. And so they walked on in silence, which
seemed to suit Milla. She hung weightily upon his arm, and they dawdled,
drifting from one side of the pavement to the other as they slowly
advanced. Ablert and Sadie, ahead of them, called "good-night" from a
corner, before turning down the side street where Sadie lived; and then,
presently, Ramsey and Milla were at the latter's gate. He went in with
her, halting at the front steps.

"Well, g'night, Milla," he said. "Want to go out walking to-morrow
night? Albert and Sadie are."

"I can't to-morrow night," she told him with obvious regret. "Isn't it
the worst luck! I got an aunt comin' to visit from Chicago, and she's
crazy about playing 'Five Hundred,' and Mama and Papa said I haf to stay
in to make four to play it. She's liable to be here three or four days,
and I guess I got to be around home pretty much all the time she's here.
It's the worst luck!"

He was doleful, but ventured to be literary. "Well, what can't be helped
must be endured. I'll come around when she's gone."

He moved as if to depart, but she still retained his arm and did not
prepare to relinquish it.

"Well--" he said.

"Well what, Ramsey?"

"Well--g'night."