whim too debonnaire
for a Parisian of the best world, and of _that_ she most distinctly
was--Austrian more than likely. Every woman has her history--only when
she is part of several has she a past. What had this woman so to
meditate upon? She turned and he met her eyes.

"You have naturally waited for me to speak first," she said with a
gracious gesture of her bare hand. "And _I_ was waiting till you
should have finished your letters! I, too, have wanted to think."

Her familiar address, perfectly courteous and made in a pleasant voice,
with a very slight accent, was a surprise to her companion, who
mechanically lifted his hat as he bowed to her across the narrow
distance between their seats.

"The guard," she smiled, "came very near putting the placard on the
other window! But I think we are now quite sure to be alone!" She
pointed to the seat opposite. "Sit there," she more commanded than
permitted, "we can talk better and I can watch your kind face, which
always looks as if you understood--and I shall be able to please you
better--perhaps to make you not unkind to me."

He obeyed, taking the place indicated without hesitation, and as he sat
facing her, he saw her to be one of the most beautiful women he had
ever seen. There was at once something dazzling about her--and at the
same time familiar... He had surely met her, and not long ago. Where?
And how stupid of him to have forgotten! Or had he only seen her
photograph and remarked her as a celebrity whose type of looks had
pleased him? But no, she knew him: that was clear. He met her
friendly eyes, where liking was evident as well as the suggestion of
something akin to an appeal. Bulstrode was greatly intrigued.

"Unkind?" he repeated vaguely. "But why should you think that? Please
me?"--and his graciousness did not fall short of her own--"But why
should you...?"

"Oh, true," she interrupted him, "quite true. There is no reason
why--" and she made a rather petulant gesture--"yet every woman wants
to please, and none of us relishes being judged. Never mind, however,
don't think of me as a _person_--just let me talk to you frankly, be
myself for once with someone if I can."

Jimmy Bulstrode gathered himself together and sat back in his corner.
She was very lovely at it, this being herself. Gallantry would not let
him bluntly tell her that she had made a mistake. A second more would
clear the matter and would be quite soon enough, for him a