He pulled out his watch and looked at it in the moonlight.
"All this reminds me," he said, "that I have promised to go
to work tonight. But this is so--er--thrilling that I guess the
work can wait. Well--now go on."
Oh, the Joy of that night! How can I describe it? To be at
last in the company of one who understood, who--as he himself
had said in "Her Soul"--spoke my own languidge! Except for the
occasional mosquitoe, there was no sound save the turgescent sea
and his Voice.
Often since that time I have sat and listened to
conversation. How flat it sounds to listen to father prozing
about Gold, or Sis about Clothes, or even to the young men who
come to call, and always talk about themselves.
We were at last interupted in a strange manner. Mr. Patten
came down their walk and crossed to us, walking very fast. He
stopped right in front of us and said:
"Look here, Reg, this is about all I can stand."
"Oh, go away, and sing, or do somthing," said Mr. Beecher
sharply.
"You gave me your word of Honor" said the Patten man. "I
can only remind you of that.
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