moment. "I've simply come to see the view of the meadows."
"Oh, no disturbance," he exclaimed, "and say, if it's the view you're keen on, take the seat."
"No, thank you," I replied.
"Go on, I've had enough. Take it. I don't want it."
"Oh, no," I repeated. "It's very kind, but no, thank you."
"Why not? I've had my fill of view. Upon my word, I was just going to clear out anyway."
"Oh, were you?" That altered matters.
"Sure thing."
Then, "Thank you," I said, and went over and sat down.
Often under the cloak of just such innocent and ordinary phrases is carried on a private code of rapid signs and signals as easily understood by those who have been taught as dots and dashes by a telegraphic operator. I couldn't honestly say whether it was Mr. Sewall or I who gave the first signal, but at any rate the eyes of both of us had said what convention would never allow to pass our lips. So I wasn't surprised, as perhaps an outsider will be, when Mr. Sewall didn't raise his hat, excuse himself, and leave me alone on the rustic seat, as he should have done according to all rules of good form and etiquette. Instead he remarked, "I beg your pardon, but haven't I met you before somewhere?"
"Not that I know of," I replied icily, the manner of my glance, however, belying the tone of my voice.
