"Do you like horses?" I asked.
"Not in the least."
Somebody called Helen.
"Good-night, Cass."
"Good-night; keep out of the rain."
"Good-night, Miss Morgeson," said Mr. Somers, when she had gone. "Good-night and good-morning. My acquaintance with you has begun; it will never end. You thought me a boy; I am just your age."
"'Never,' is a long word, Boy Somers."
"It is."
It rained all night; I wearied of its monotonous fall; if I slept it turned into a voice which was pent up in a letter which I could not open.