"You are abroad early, my lord," she said, with the delicious quaint mockery with which she sometimes flattered me. And she repeated the lines:
"Hast thou seen ghosts? Hast thou at midnight heard
In the wind's talking an articulate word?
Or art thou in the secret of the sea,
And have the twilight woods confessed to thee?"
"No such pleasant things have happened to me, Miss Holbrook."
"This is my birthday. I have crowned myself—observe the cap!"
"We must celebrate! I crave the privilege of dining you to-night."
"You were starting for somewhere with an air of determination. Don't let me interfere with your plans."
"I was going to the boat-house," I answered truthfully.
"Let me come along. I am turned sixty-five, and I think I am entitled to do as I please; don't you?"
"I do, indeed, but that is no reason. You are no more sixty-five than I am. The cap, if you will pardon me, only proclaims your immunity from the blasts of Time."
"I wish I had known you at twenty," she said brightly, as we went on together.