He imagined that he was making enough noise to rouse the neighbours
for blocks around. No time was to be lost in self-commiseration,
however. He hurriedly dragged out a ladder, which he managed to place
against the window-sill without accident.
"Here it is," she whispered excitedly. The next instant a heavy object
dropped at his feet with a crash. "Oh!" she exclaimed with horror, "my
perfume bottles!"
"Good Lord!" he gasped.
"I thought you were going to catch it. Oh, here's the ladder. Do you
think I'll fall? Oh, oh!"
"Don't be afraid. Climb out, dear--and hurry!"
She was brave enough in the crisis. While he held the bottom of the
ladder she scrambled through the window and hurried downward. Before
she reached the bottom he lifted her from the ladder in his strong
arms and held her close for a moment.
"Take the ladder down, dearest," she whispered between kisses. "I
don't want mother to know I left that way--not just yet,--nor Mr.
Windomshire, either."
"Come this way," he whispered, after replacing the ladder. "I left the
car just around the corner. Come on, darling, and we'll soon be safe.
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