“How CAN I tell him?” whispered Miss Stanley. Everything was fresh and bright, from the kindly manners of the Frutigen cobbler, who hammered mountain nails into her boots, to the unfamiliar wild flowers that spangled the wayside. ” “We’ll have, thank God! ten myriad days to tell each other things. Meantime, every preparation had been made outside for his departure. ” The dinner came to an end at last, and the whiskered waiter presented his bill and evacuated the apartment and closed the door behind him with an almost ostentatious discretion. And nothing to tell her where to begin. “They have all been trying to turn my head. Before I met you I never met any one whom I felt I could love, but you have discovered depths in my own nature I had scarcely suspected. I feel a mixture of beast and uncle.
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