"Good-afternoon, Miss Garrison! I am Mr. Bassett; I believe I introduced
myself to you at Waupegan--and that seems a long time ago."
"I remember very well, Mr. Bassett," Sylvia replied, and they shook
hands. "You found me in my dream corner by the lake and walked to Mrs.
Owen's with me. I remember our meeting perfectly."
He stood with his hand on the newel regarding her intently. She was
entirely at ease, a young woman without awkwardness or embarrassment.
She had disposed of their previous meeting lightly, as though such
fortuitous incidents had not been lacking in her life. Her mourning hat
cast a shadow upon her face, but he had been conscious of the
friendliness of her smile. Her dark eyes had inspected him swiftly; he
was vaguely aware of a feeling that he wanted to impress her favorably.
"The maid said Mrs. Owen and Marian are still out. I hope Mrs. Bassett
is better. I wonder if I can do anything for her."
"No, thank you; she's quite comfortable and will be down for dinner."
"I'm glad to hear that; suppose we find seats here."
She walked before him into the parlor and threw back the curtains the
better to admit the air. He watched her attentively, noting the ease and
grace of her movements, and took the chair she indicated.
"It's very nice to see Mrs. Bassett and Marian again; they were so good
to me that summer at Waupegan; I have carried the pleasantest memories
of that visit ever since.
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