“What for?”
“I want to see if I’m awake.”
“You’re awake all right,” he laughed.
“Do you see what I see?” I asked him.
“I see a house.”
“Is there a woman on the porch of the house that you see?”
“Sure thing.”
I took another look at the porch’s occupant, a sort of protracted, staring look. It couldn’t be [[120]]Miss Prindle, I told myself. No. It was some other woman, a very beautiful woman, dressed up in the homely one’s clothes.
Still, it looked like Miss Prindle, all but the face.
“Good afternoon,” I said, touching my cap.