hoever it was, she had dared to look straight into
his eyes in broad daylight at a distance of not more than four feet. He
had seen into the very depths of her own bewildering beauty, and the
encounter, always supposing her to be the person of whom he had thought
continuously for four months, was a thing to keep him thinking about her
whether he would or no.

"Anything wrong?" asked Burns's voice in its coolest tones. "I suspect
I was something of an idiot to give you such a big dose of this at the
first trial."

"I'm all right, thank you." And King sat up very straight in the car to
prove it. Nevertheless, when he was at home again he was not sorry to be
peremptorily ordered to lie supine on his back for at least three hours.

It was not long after this that King was able to bring about the thing
he most desired--a talk with Mrs. Burns. She came to see him one July
day, at his request, at an hour when he knew his mother must be away.
With her he went straight to his point; the moment the first greetings
were over and he had been congratulated on his ability to spend a few
hours each day at his desk, he began upon the subject uppermost in his
thoughts. He told her the story of his encounter with the girl in the
car, and asked her if she thought it could have been Miss Linton.

She looked at him musingly. "Do you prefer to think it was or was not?"
she asked.

"Are you going to answer accordingly?"

"Not at all. I was wondering which I wanted to think myself. I wish I
had been with you. I should have known."

"Would you?" King spoke eagerly. "Would you mind telling me how?"

"I can't tell you how. Of course I came to know her looks much better
than you; it really isn't strange that after seeing her only twice you
couldn't be sure. I don't think any change of dress or environment could
have hidden her from me. The question is, of course, why--if it was
she--she should have chosen not to seem to know you--unless--"

"Yes--"

She looked straight at him. "Unless--she is not the poor girl she seemed
to be. And that explanation doesn't appeal to me. I have known of poor
girls pretending to be rich, but I have never, outside of a sensational
novel, known a rich girl to pretend to be poor, unless for a visit to a
poor quarter for charitable purposes. What possible object could there
be in a girl's going about selling books unless she needed to do it? And
she allowed me--" She stopped, shaking her head. "No, Jordan, th