``Of course it does,'' declared he.
For an hour he sat there, talking on, most of it a
pretty dull kind of drivel. Mrs. Brindley listened
patiently, because she liked him and because she had
nothing else to do until bedtime. At last he rose with
a long sigh and said:
``I guess I might as well be going.''
``She'll not come in to-night again,'' said Cyrilla
slyly.
He laughed. ``You are a good one. I'll own up,
I've been staying on partly in the hope that she'd come
back. But it's been a great joy to talk to you about
her. I know you love her, too.''
``Yes, I'm extremely fond of her,'' said she. ``I've
not known many women--many people without petty
mean tricks. She's one.''
``Isn't she, though?'' exclaimed he.
``I don't mean she's perfect,'' said Mrs. Brindley.
``I don't even mean that she's as angelic as you think
her. I'd not like her, if she were. But she's a superior
kind of human.''
She was tired of him now, and got him out speedily.
As she closed the front door upon him, Mildred's door,
down the hall, opened.
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