"You did not see me."
"I don't want to see, in your case. I feel you."
There was another brief silence, and then she rustled off a step or two.
"Well, good-night! I just came out to look for a book I left here somewhere."
"What book?" "It doesn't matter. It is too late to read tonight, anyhow."
"It spoils books to leave them out all night. I will help you to find it." He got up, and pretended to look about. "It is not on this seat—"
"Perhaps Miss Keene has taken it in. She is always after me to pick up my litters. It won't rain, anyway, so it doesn't matter."
"No, it won't rain tonight. Awfully nice night, isn't it? I came over here to get a quiet smoke and let those fellows subside a bit. I could not stand their noise, and the place is stifling."
"I'm afraid so. I'm so sorry we have to put you there; but you know—"
"Oh, of course! I don't mind a bit. It is hot indoors, wherever you are. If it were not for the mosquitoes, it would be nice to sleep in hammocks under the trees this weather." "I have often thought so. I can't breathe shut up. Rose is in my room tonight, and she seems like a whole crowd. I had to come out to cool myself." "And to get your book. What book was it?" "The—er—Clough's poems." "How many copies have you?—because one of them has been in my pocket for two days."