I made the tour of the party, overlooked the whist players, chatted with the talkers, finally taking a seat, where Helen joined me.
"Now I am going," she said.
"Why don't they all go ?" "Look at Mr.Somers playing the agreeable to Mrs.Morgeson.What kind of a woman is she, Cass ?" "Go and learn for yourself." "I fear I have not the gift for divining people that you have." "Do you hear the wind moan now, Helen ?" She turned crimson, and said: "Let us go to the window; I think it rains." We stood within the curtains, and listened to its pattering on the floor of the piazza, and trickling down the glass like tears.
"Helen, if one could weep as quietly as this rain falls, and keep the face as unwrinkled as the glass, it would be pretty to weep." "Is it hard for you to cry ?" "I can't remember; it is so long since." My ear caught the sound of a step on the piazza.
"Who is that ?" she asked.
"It is a man." "Morgeson ?" "Morgeson." "Cassandra ?" "Cassandra." "I can cry," and Helen covered her face.
"Cry away, then.

Give me a fierce shower of tears, with thunder and lightning between, if you like.

Don't sop, and soak, and drizzle." The step came close to the window; it was not in harmony with the rain and darkness, but with the hot beating of my heart.
"We are breaking up," called Mr.Somers.

"Mr.Bancroft's carriage is ready, I am bid to say.

It is inky outside." "Yes," said Helen, "I am quite ready." "There are a dozen chaises in the yard; Mr.Morgeson is there, and lanterns.