She was a superb listener, and he was a prodigious talker--was it not all appropriate?
One day he went searching for Kitty at her favourite retreat, a little knoll behind and to the left of the house, where a half-dozen trees made a pleasant resting-place at a fine look-out point.

He found her in her usual place, with a look almost pensive on her face.

He did not notice that, for he was excited and elated.
"I want to read you something I've written," he said, and he drew from his pocket a paper.
"If it's another description of the timber-land you have for sale-please, not to me," she answered provokingly, for she guessed well what he held in his hand.

She had seen him writing it.

She had even seen some of the lines scrawled and re-scrawled on bits of paper, showing careful if not swift and skillful manufacture.