in the streets. It is considered bad form by the police.

"Thanks! I must remember that."

I was startled, then, because my thoughts were far away. I was
dreaming of Italy, where I was born, though there is no more
Italian blood in my veins than there is in yours.

The ruddy head became erect and the blue eyes searched the glowing seams
in the logs. Here was a riddle.

"What made him think that, I wonder?"

I therefore write this in a language familiar to us both, certain
you could not sing Lecocq's songs in Italian if you did not speak
and understand it thoroughly. Signora or signorina, whichever it
may be, have we no mutual friends? Are you not known to some one
who knows me? Some one who will speak for me, my character, my
habits? Modesty forbids that I myself should dwell upon my virtues.
I could refer you to my bankers, but money does not recommend the
good character of a man. It merely recommends his thrift, or more
generally that of his father.

"That will pass as wit," said the lady. "But it is rather a dull letter,
so far. But, then, he is wandering in the dark."

You say you sang because at that moment you were happy. This
implies that you are not always so. Surely, with a voice like yours
one can not possibly be unhappy. If only I might meet you! Will you
not do me that honor? I realize that this is all irregular, out of
fashion, obsolete. But something tells me that neither of us is
adjusted properly to prosaic environments. Isn't there just a
little pure, healthy romance waiting to be given life? Your voice
haunts me; out of every silence it comes to me--"She is so
innocent, so youthful!"

John Hillard.

The letter fluttered into her lap. She leaned on her elbows. It was not
a bad letter; and she rather liked the boyish tone of it. Nothing vulgar
peered out from between the lines. Did he really love music? He must,
for it was not every young man who could pick out the melody of an old,
forgotten opera. She shivered, but the room was warm. Had fate or chance
some ulterior purpose behind this episode? Rather than tempt fate she
decided not to answer this letter; aside from her passive superstition,
it would be neither wise nor useful. She desired to meet no strangers;
to be left to herself was all she wished. Her voice, it was all she had
that afforded her comfort and pleasure.

Romance!