"I think so."
Then Helen pushed back her chair; and Mrs. Bancroft stood in her place long enough for us to reach the parlor door.
"And I must go to the office," Mr. Bancroft said, so we had the parlor to ourselves; but Mr. Somers did not read from Tennyson—for he had forgotten to bring the book.
"Now for a compact," he said. "I must be called Ben Somers by you; and may I call you Cassandra, and Helen?"
"Yes," we answered.
"Let us be confidential."
And we were. I was drawn into speaking of my life at home; my remarks, made without premeditation, proved that I possessed ideas and feelings hitherto unknown. I felt no shyness before him, and, although I saw his interest in me, no agitation. Helen was also moved to tell us that she was engaged. She rolled up her sleeve to show us a bracelet, printed in ink on her arm, with the initials, "L.N." Those of her cousin, she said; he was a sailor, and some time, she supposed, they would marry.
"How could you consent to have your arm so defaced?" I asked.
Her eyes flashed as she replied that she had not looked upon the mark in that light before.
"We may all be tattooed," said Mr. Somers.