"It's a long way to go, even when you pass up the trolley and
make a single big bolt by train. And it leads through an industrial region
that is mighty unprepossessing--little beauty until almost the end. And
even when you get there, it may all seem a slight and simple affair for the
time and trouble taken--unless you really like Nature. And lastly," he
said, with a sidelong glance at Cope, "you may find yourself, as the day
wears on, getting a little too much of my company."
"Oh, I hope that doesn't mean," returned Cope, with another ingenuous
unchaining of his native resonance, "that you are afraid of getting a
little too much of mine! I'm fond of novelty, and nobody can frighten me."
"If that's the case, let's get away as early in the day as we can.
Breakfasts, of course, are late in every household on Sunday. So let's meet
at the Maroon-and-Purple Tavern at seven-thirty, and make a flying start at
eight."
Sunday morning came clear and calm and warm to the town,--a belated
September day, or possibly an early intimation of Indian summer,--and it
promised to be even more delightful in the favored region toward which our
friends were journeying.
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