She had, poor inexperienced fool, given herself away. She had made a bed for herself out of wood and furs. Somewhere in the world there was a book clerk with a discerning mind; for he had given her the best he had. "Good night. I hope you won’t mind if I say first that I think it does me an extraordinary honor that you should think of any one like myself so highly and seriously, and, secondly, that I wish it had not been written. So I am already no longer the girl you knew at Morningside Park. She would be in the library, her favorite place, or on the bench by the colored glass window with her embroidery.
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