lly isn't. It is something
I can't explain--you couldn't understand even if I tried to enlighten
you. The sentiment I harbor is too lofty for some to comprehend, too
vague, too pure, too ethereal for----"

"I'm as lofty and ethereal as you are!" retorted Smith, hotly. "And I
know a--an ethereal Lothario when I see him, too!"

"I'm not--though it looks like it--and I forgive you, Smithy, for losing
your temper and using such language."

"Oh, you do?" said Smith, grinning with rage.

"Yes," nodded Brown, kindly. "I forgive you, but don't call me that
again. You mean well, but I'm going to find out at last what all this
maddening, tantalizing, unexplained and mysterious feeling that it all
has occurred before really is. I'm going to trace it to its source; I'm
going to compare notes with this highly intelligent girl."

"You're going to _speak_ to her?"

"I am. I must. How else can I compare data."

"I hope she'll call the police. If she doesn't _I_ will."

"Don't worry. She's part of this strange situation. She'll comprehend as
soon as I begin to explain. She is intelligent; you only have to look at
her to understand that."

Smith choking with impotent fury, nevertheless ventured a swift glance.
Her undeniable beauty only exasperated him. "To think--to _think_," he
burst out, "that a modest, decent, law-loving business man like me should
suddenly awake to find his boyhood friend had turned into a godless
votary of Venus!"

"I'm not a votary of Venus!" retorted Brown, turning pink. "I'll punch
you if you say it again. I'm as decent and respectable a business man as
you are! And my grammar is better. And, thank Heaven! I've intellect
enough to recognize a miracle when it happens to me.... Do you think I am
capable of harboring any sentiments that might bring the blush of
coquetry to the cheek of modesty? Do you?"

"Well--well, _I_ don't know what you're up to!" Smith raised his voice in
bewilderment and despair. "I don't know what possesses you to act this
way. People don't experience miracles in New York cross-town cars. The
wildest stretch of imagination could only make a coincidence out of this.
There are trillions of girls in cross-town cars dressed just like this
one."

"But the basket!"

"Another coincidence. There are quadrillions of wicker baskets."

"Not," said Brown, "with the contents of this one."

"Why not?"

Smith instinctively turned to look at the basket balanced daintily on the
girl's kn