There was only a stiffly polite little conversation about colleges and travels, with a word or two about books and plays.
Then the callers went home.

On the way the boy smiled scornfully to himself.

He was trying to picture the beauteous vision he had seen, this unapproachable Princess in her filmy lace gown,--standing in the tower window and waving--waving to a bit of a house on the opposite hill.

As if that could happen! "The boy, during those last three years, had known only books.

He knew little of girls--only one girl--and he knew still less of Princesses.
So when, three days after the call, there came a chance to join a summer camp with a man who loved books even better than did the boy himself, he went gladly.