One of these sparks beyond the fence, although alternately glowing and paling, was still so persistent and stationary that Courtland leaned forward to watch it more closely, at which it disappeared, and a voice from the street said:-- "Is that you, Courtland ?" "Yes.

Come in, won't you ?" The voice was Champney's, and the light was from his cigar.

As he opened the gate and came slowly up the steps of the portico the usual hesitation of his manner seemed to have increased.

A long sigh trilled the limp leaves of the ailantus and as quickly subsided.

A few heavy perpendicular raindrops crashed and spattered through the foliage like molten lead.
"You've just escaped the shower," said Courtland pleasantly.