“If one was free,” she said, “one could go to him. ” He replied. Senior year started with a whimper. 'He that woos a maid',— fol-de-rol—(hiccupping). That's the way it goes. “I remember,” she said, “that the first night I saw you, you spoke of my sister as your friend. There was also a curious interview at a big hotel with a middle-aged, white-powdered woman, all covered with jewels and reeking of scent, who wanted a Companion. I have it on my conscience that I offended you—” “Offended me when?” “I’ve been haunted by the memory of you. "I'm glad to hear it, that's all," he added, taking out his snuff-box, his never-failing resource in such emergencies. She had in her suitcase a small scrapbook, only a few pages, what little information she had gathered on him through the years.
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