Much as she gives, there is in her infinitely more to get.
My relation with her never goes on, and it never goes back. It leads nowhere. She and I stop together in the midst of our situation and look about us. And what we see in the looking about is all and enough to consider.
And considering, I write of it.
[IV
BOSTON]
YESTERDAY the lady was in her most amiable mood, and we talked together—about Boston, it so happened.
“Do you like Boston?” she asked me.
“Yes,” I replied; “I am fond of Boston. It fascinates me.”
“But not fonder of it than of Butte, in Montana?”