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 and there was Harold Denver standing before her.

"You were lost in your thoughts,” said he, smiling. “I hope that they were pleasant ones.”

“Oh, I was planning," said she, rising. “It seems rather a waste of time as a rule, for things have a way of working themselves out just as you least expect.”

“What were you planning, then?”

”The future.”

“Whose?”

“Oh, my own and Ida's.”

“And was I included in your joint futures?

“I hope all our friends were included.”

“Don’t go in,” said he, as she began to move slowly towards the house. “I wanted to have a word. Let us stroll up and down the lawn. Perhaps you are cold. If you are, I could bring you out a shawl.”

"Oh, no, I am not cold.”

“I was speaking to your sister Ida last night.” She noticed that there was a slight quiver in his voice, and, glancing up at his dark, clearcut face, she saw that he was very grave. She felt that it was settled, that he had come to ask her for her sister’s hand.

“She is a charming girl,” said he, after a pause.

“Indeed she is,” cried Clara warmly. “And no one who has not lived with her and known