—'I have nothing worth telling,' I answered.
—'But you must: you were in Europe for many years, when quite young, I have heard. You must have had some experiences to interest us.'
—'Well, I can remember only one or two amusing incidents. I once knew a charming young lady, called by her friends "the modest Violet." She lived with her mother and sisters in a country home near London. I was often invited there to take tea and play tennis, or accompany them for a drive. On one occasion, I was walking with her round the garden, when we came to a nook where there was a garden seat. We sat down. But the seat, being old, the part on which I sat gave way all of a sudden, and I found myself flat on the ground, the other part of the seat remaining intact.'
—'Does she still remember you, or rather, have you seen her since your arrival in Europe this time?' asked another.
—'Yes! I have seen her, and I noticed when I visited her she was still using on her table a silver trinket, of which I made her a present years ago, on the occasion of her wedding.'
—'That is one—and another.'
—'Well, I was at Brighton one summer, and met there a young lady with whom I was acquainted. We went for a walk together on the Parade one bright afternoon and then went down to the beach. She sat on a small rock and leaned against the stone wall. She had a book of select poems in her hand and read a good many of them while I reclined on the sand by her side. When she rose from her seat, I noticed that the back of her white summer dress was stained green by the moss on the stone against which she had leaned, and she was obliged to go home with her sunshade open over her back.'
—'Let me again ask if you have met her since?'
—'No, I have lost trace of her altogether. She was the daughter of an astronomer. If she is still living, she will remember me when she sees my Summer Dream.'
—'What?'