and voices isn't exactly soothing. However, go on with your game--go
on with your game! If I can't stand it, I'll go back to the
library."

"Oh, no, Pa, it's too cold in there; this is the time of year you
always get that cold in your nose," Mrs. Monroe said pleadingly.

"I was going right up, anyway," Sally said with an apologetic air
and a glance toward the door.

"I'll go, too!" Martie jumbled the cards together, and rose. "It's
nearly ten, anyway."

A moment later she and Sally went out of the room together. But
while Sally went straight upstairs, to light the bedroom gas, fold
up the counterpane, and otherwise play the part of the good sister
she was, Martie noiselessly opened the side door and stepped out for
a breath of the sweet autumn night.

There was a spectacularly bright moon, somewhere; Martie could not
see it, but beyond the sunken garden she caught glimpses of silvery
brightness on the roofs of Monroe. Even here, under the dark trees,
pools of light had formed and the heavy foliage was shot with shafts
of radiance. A strong wind was clicking the eucalyptus leaves
together, and carrying bits of rubbish here and there about the
yard. Martie could hear voices, the barking of dogs, and the whine
of the ten o'clock trolley, down in the village.

The gate slammed. Leonard came in.