Dusk had
fallen. Where they stood, under the young-leaved maple tree, there
was but a faint lingering of afterglow, and in this mystery her face
glimmered wan and sweet; so that Ramsey, just then, was like one who
discovers an old pan, used in the kitchen, to be made of chased silver.
"Well, I don't feel much like dinner right now," he said. "We--we could
sit here awhile on this bench, prob'ly."
Chapter XV
Ramsey kept very few things from Fred Mitchell, and usually his
confidences were immediate upon the occasion of them; but allowed
several weeks to elapse before sketching for his roommate the outlines
of this adventure.
"One thing that was kind o' funny about it, Fred," he said, "I didn't
know what to call her."
Mr. Mitchell, stretched upon the window seat in their "study," and
looking out over the town street below and the campus beyond the street,
had already thought it tactful to ambush his profound amusement by
turning upon his side, so that his face was toward the window and away
from his companion.
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