He declined to come in. “This party must be so boring for you. The misty caravans of which she had dreamed were become actualities. I wish I could get you to imitate Thames Darrell. ‘Oh! little Vee!’ he cried, ‘little Vee!’ and put his face between his hands and sat still for a long time before he broke out again. She could almost smell her mother’s attar of white roses and lemon verbena with the memory of the story. This time there wasn't any doubt. But he could only discern a black and shapeless mass, floating upon the water at a little distance, which, to his bewildered fancy, appeared absolutely standing still. Something happened down there, and probably I'll never know what. ‘Well?’ she said.
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