So in my next letter to him I described you as well as I could, mentioned that you were as good or a better swimmer than he, and asked for particulars.

He answered that the only fellow he could think of who fitted your description was 'Russ' Brooks--Russell, I suppose--of New York; though what Russ Brooks was doing as lightkeeper's assistant at Eastboro Twin-Lights he DIDN'T know.
Neither did I.But then, THAT was not my business." The substitute assistant did not answer: he could not, on such short notice.
"So," continued the girl, "I felt almost as if I had known you for a long time.

You and Horace were such good friends at college, and he had often told me of you.

I was very glad to meet you in real life, especially here, where I had no one but Mrs.Bascom to talk to; Mr.
Atkins, by reason of his aversion to my unfortunate sex, being barred." Mr.Brown's--or Mr.Brooks'-- next speech harked back to her previous one.
"I'll tell you while I'm here," he began.
"You needn't, unless you wish," she said.

"I have no right to know"-- adding, with characteristic femininity, "though I'm dying to." "But I want you to know.