“Glad to see you again, Miss Standish!” exclaimed Caleb, heartily, after nodding acknowledgement to the somewhat cold recognition of the other callers. “I’ve been around two or three times. But you’re always out when I call. My bad luck. But I’m goin’ to keep on callin’ just the same. It’s lonesome in town this summer. Lonesomer, seems to me, than it ever was before. So I’m goin’ to stroll ’round here kind of often if you’ll let me.” He had taken the place on the steps momentarily vacated by a youth who had been sitting by Letty and who had risen when the girl introduced Conover. Letty, while she tried to murmur something gracious in reply to his remark, found herself looking at his shadowy form in abject terror. Even through the gloaming his light, alert eyes seemed to seize and hold her will. The hands she clasped nervously in her lap grew cold and damp. Her nose quivered a distress warning that the cruel darkness rendered of no avail. “Been up to the Arareek lately?” he went on. “No. Yes--I--not _very_ lately,” she stammered. “Neither’ve I,” he answered. “Too hot for the walk. When it gets cooler I’m goin’ to try and get there ev’ry week. I ought to go out more. I’m beginning to see that. My s’ciety manners are gettin’ rusty. Fact is, I’ve had to hustle so hard all my life I’ve never took time to have any fun. But things are shapin’ themselves now like I was goin’ to have a chance to look around me at last. Then I hope I’ll see more of _you_, Miss Standish,--a good deal more,” he continued, lowering his voice to a rumble that excluded the rest from the _tête-à-tête_. “I--I shall be very glad,” faltered the poor girl. “So’ll I,” he agreed. “I’m not such a stoopid, nose-to-the-grindstone feller as you may think, Miss Standish. I’ve been busy; that’s all. Now that the cash is runnin’ in, I’m goin’ to enjoy it; an’ try to do more in s’ciety than I’ve been able to, so far. A single man don’t get much show to rise in the social back yard; not without he has tricks. An’ I haven’t any,--thank the Lord! But even if I can’t get a lot of popularity for myself, why--maybe I can annex some of it in my wife’s name.” “Your wife?” she interposed, a hope breaking through the pall of misery that was settling over her, “I didn’t know you were--” “Married? I ain’t. But I hope to be before I’m so very much older. Ev’ry man ought to marry. ’Specially a man with my money an’ p’sition. I’m able to support a wife, better’n any other feller you know. Don’t you think I’d ought to get one?” The girl’s dry tongue refused its office. Conover went on in the same loathed undertone of confidence: “I’ve ’bout made up my mind on that point, Miss Standish. An’ when I an’ the young lady I have in mind gets to be a little better acquainted, I hope she’ll agree with me.”