My remembrance presents us as standing together with clasped hands; but nothing in the slightest degree ominous is associated with the picture.

There was no sinister chill communicated from his hand to mine; no shocking accident happened close by us in the river; not even a passing cloud obscured the sunlight, shining in its gayest glory over our heads.
After having shaken hands, neither he nor I had apparently anything more to say.

A little embarrassed, I turned to the boat-house window, and looked out.

Trifling as the action was, my companion noticed it.
"Do you like that muddy river ?" he asked.
I took the pencil again: "Old associations make even the ugly Loke interesting to me." He sighed as he read those words.

"I wish, Mr.Roylake, I could say the same.