'Are you well, Ginevra?'

'Quite well, Amy.'

Heavens, the joy of Amy because Ginevra is quite well.

'How did my Amy sleep?'

'I had a good night.'

How happy is Ginevra because Amy has had a good night. All this time
they have been slowly approaching each other, drawn by a power
stronger than themselves. Their intention is to kiss. They do so.
Cosmo snorts, and betakes himself to some other room, his bedroom
probably, where a man may be alone with mannish things, his razor, for
instance. The maidens do not resent his rudeness. They know that poor
Cosmo's time will come, and they are glad to be alone, for they have
much to say that is for no other mortal ears. Some of it is sure to go
into the diary; indeed if we were to put our ear to the drawer where
the diary is we could probably hear its little heart ticking in unison
with theirs.

It is Ginevra who speaks first. She is indeed the bolder of the two.
She grips Amy's hand and says quite firmly, 'Amy, shall we go to
_another_ to-night?' This does not puzzle Amy, she is prepared for it,
her honest grey eyes even tell that she has wanted it, but now that it
is come she quails a little. 'Another theatre?' she murmurs.
'Ginevra, that would be five in one week.'