“I shall miss all this”—with a wave of her hand toward the waves—“next week, when I am back again in the city.”
Brown's cap was in his hand as she began to speak. After she had finished he stooped to pick up the cap, which had fallen to the ground.
“You are going away—next week?” he said slowly.
“We are going to-morrow. I shall remain in Boston for a few days. Then I shall visit a friend in the Berkshires. After that I may join my brother in Europe; I'm not sure as to that.”
“To-morrow?”
“Yes!”
There was another one of those embarrassing intervals of silence which of late seemed to occur so often in their conversation. Miss Graham, as usual, was the first to speak.
“Mr. Brown,” she began. The substitute assistant interrupted her.
“Please don't call me that,” he blurted involuntarily. “It—oh, confound it, it isn't my name!”
She should have been very much surprised. He expected her to be. Instead she answered quite calmly.