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When I look at your photograph, I say
to myself, "At last, at last here is one that will not prove shallow."
My faithful briar has gone out. I will have to rise and fill it, then
once more in the fragrance of My Lady Nicotine, I will sit and dream
the old dreams over, and think, too, of the true friend at home
awaiting my return in June for the summer vacation.
Friend, this is from your friend,
G.A.M.

George's anticipations were not disappointed. When he came home in
June his friend was awaiting him; at least, she was so pleased to see
him again that for a few minutes after their first encounter she was a
little breathless, and a great deal glowing, and quiet withal. Their
sentimental friendship continued, though sometimes he was irritated by
her making it less sentimental than he did, and sometimes by what he
called her "air of superiority." Her air was usually, in truth, that
of a fond but amused older sister; and George did not believe such an
attitude was warranted by her eight months of seniority.


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