? ? ? ? 'You are very kind, I am sure, she murmured; and the very conventionality of her tones and words, with the host of associations it aroused of the old life on the other side of the world, gave me a quick thrill- rich with rememberance but stinging sharp with homesickness.
? ? ? ? 'And you are Maud Brewster,' I said solemnly, gazing across at her.
? ? ? ? 'And you are Humphrey Van Weyden,' she said, gazing back at me with equal solemnity and awe. 'How unusual! I don't understand. We surely are not to expect some wildly romantic sea-story from your sober pen.'
? ? ? ? 'No, I am not gathering material, I assure you,' was my answer. 'I have neither aptitude nor inclination for fiction.'
? ? ? ? 'Tell me, why have you always buried yourself in California?' she next asked. 'It has not been kind of you. We of the East have seen so very little of you- too little indeed of the Dean of American Letters the Second.'
? ? ? ? I bowed to, and disclaimed, the compliment.
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