I was puzzled and hurt indeed, because she had not even said good-bye
to me. But soon came this brief note from her:

"Dearest Boy:--

Do come up to Newark and see me some afternoon. And come more than
once. Bring your Tennyson that you was reading aloud to me. I love
to hear you read poetry. I think you are a dear and want to see
more of you. But I suppose you have already forgotten

Your loving

FLORA."

In the absurd and pitiful folly of youth I lifted the letter to my lips
and kissed it. I trembled with eagerness till the paper rattled as I
read it again and again. It seemed like some precious holy script.

I bolted my lunch nervously and it stuck half way down in a hard lump. I
would go to her that very afternoon.

* * * * *

The car on which I rode was subject to too frequent stoppage for me. I
leaped out and walked along with brisk strides. But the car sailed forth
ahead of me now on a long stretch of roadway and I ran after it to catch
it again. The conductor looked back at me in derisive scorn and made a
significant whirling motion near his temple with his index finger,
indicating that I had wheels there....