"How you did start, and how your hand trembled, Shirley!" said Henry, when the maid had closed the shutter and was gone. "But I know why--don't you, Mr. Moore? I know what papa intends. He is a little ugly man, that Sir Philip. I wish he had not come. I wish sisters and all of them had stayed at De Walden Hall to dine.--Shirley should once more have made tea for you and me, Mr. Moore, and we would have had a happy evening of it."
Moore was locking up his desk and putting away his St. Pierre. "That was _your_ plan, was it, my boy?"
"Don't you approve it, sir?"

"How you did start, Shirley!" said Henry, when the maid had gone. "But I know why - don't you, Mr. Moore? I know what papa intends. He is a little ugly man, that Sir Philip. I wish he had not come. Shirley should have made tea for you and me, Mr. Moore, and we would have had a happy evening."
Moore was locking up his desk. "That was your plan, was it, my boy?"
"Don't you approve it, sir?"
