"It spoils books to leave them out all night. I will help you to find
it." He got up, and pretended to look about. "It is not on this seat--"

"Perhaps Miss Keene has taken it in. She is always after me to
pick up my litters. It won't rain, anyway, so it doesn't matter."

"No, it won't rain tonight. Awfully nice night, isn't it? I came over
here to get a quiet smoke and let those fellows subside a bit. I could
not stand their noise, and the place is stifling."

"I'm afraid so. I'm so sorry we have to put you there; but you know--"

"Oh, of course! I don't mind a bit. It is hot indoors, wherever you
are. If it were not for the mosquitoes, it would be nice to sleep in
hammocks under the trees this weather." "I have often thought so. I
can't breathe shut up. Rose is in my room tonight, and she seems like a
whole crowd. I had to come out to cool myself." "And to get your book.
What book was it?" "The--er--Clough's poems." "How many copies have
you?--because one of them has been in my pocket for two days."

"Well, I don't want it. Good-night!"

She put out her hand. He took it and held it. The moonlight now was
very bright, but not bright enough to reveal his smile or her blush.
However, neither could be hidden from the second sight of love. "Don't
go yet, Debbie. I never get a word with you these days, you are so
taken up with all sorts of people. And you haven't had time to get cool
yet. I know you haven't--by the feel of your hand."