When Miss Cullen returned we went back to the rear platform of 97.  I let down the traps, closed the gates, got a camp-stool for her to sit upon, with a cushion to lean back on, and a footstool, and fixed her as comfortably as I could, even getting a traveling-rug to cover her lap, for the plateau air was chilly.  Then I hesitated a moment, for I had the feeling that she had not thoroughly approved of the thing and therefore she might not like to have me stay.  Yet she was so charming in the moonlight, and the little balcony the platform made was such a tempting spot to linger on, while she was there, that it wasn’t easy to go.  Finally I asked—­

“You are quite comfortable, Miss Cullen?”

“Sinfully so,” she laughed.

“Then perhaps you would like to be left to enjoy the moonlight and your meditations by yourself?” I questioned.  I knew I ought to have just gone away, but I simply couldn’t when she looked so enticing.

“Do you want to go?” she asked.

“No!” I ejaculated, so forcibly that she gave a little startled jump in her chair.  “That is—­I mean,” I stuttered, embarrassed by my own vehemence, “I rather thought you might not want me to stay.”

“What made you think that?” she demanded.

I never was a good hand at inventing explanations, and after a moment’s seeking for some reason, I plumped out, “Because I feared you might not think it proper to use my car, and I suppose it’s my presence that made you think it.”

She took my stupid fumble very nicely, laughing merrily while saying, “If you like mountains and moonlight, Mr. Gordon, and don’t mind the lack of a chaperon, get a stool for yourself, too.”  What was more, she offered me half of the lap-robe when I was seated beside her.

I think she was pleased by my offer to go away, for she talked very pleasantly, and far more intimately than she had ever done before, telling me facts about her family, her Chicago life, her travels, and even her thoughts.  From this I learned that her elder brother was an Oxford graduate, and that Lord Ralles and his brother were classmates, who were visiting him for the first time since he had graduated.  She asked me some questions about my work, which led me to tell her pretty much everything about myself that I thought could be of the least interest; and it was a very pleasant surprise to me to find that she knew one of the old team, and had even heard of me from him.

“Why,” she exclaimed, “how absurd of me not to have thought of it before!  But, you see, Mr. Colston always speaks of you by your first name.  You ought to hear how he praises you.”

“Trust Harry to praise any one,” I said.  “There were some pretty low fellows on the old team—­men who couldn’t keep their word or their tempers, and would slug every chance they got; but Harry used to insist there wasn’t a bad egg among the lot.”

“Don’t you find it very lonely to live out here, away from old friends?” she asked.