Avery stirred and opened them . Janet guiltily thrust her pill box behind her . `` Randall is downstairs asking for you , Avery . '' Avery sat up , looking annoyed . She had not expected Randall that evening and would greatly have preferred a continuance of her nap . She went down crossly enough , but looking very lovely , flushed from sleep . Janet stood in their room , clasping her cold hands nervously over her breast . Would the charm work ? Oh , she must know -- she must know . She could not wait . After a few moments that seemed like years she crept down the stairs and out into the dusk of the June-warm September night . Like a shadow she slipped up to the open parlour window and looked cautiously in between the white muslin curtains . The next minute she had fallen on her knees in the mint bed . She wished she could die then and there . The young man in the parlour was not Randall Burnley . He was dark and smart and handsome ; he was sitting on the sofa by Avery 's side , holding her hands in his , smiling into her rosy , delighted , excited face . And he was Bruce Gordon -- no doubt of that . Bruce Gordon , the expected cousin from Scotland ! `` Oh , what have I done ? What have I done ? ''
moaned poor XXXXX , wringing her hands .
Avery Burnley Gordon Janet Randall Scotland evening night parlour years