re eggs than fell to the lot of any other two men.

It was while rapturously eating these eggs that he spake: "My dear Mrs.
Smith, will you forgive me if I venture to suggest, even to you--for
what I have seen this night has convinced me that you are one of the
very few people who know what a dinner ought to be--that the Madeira
used in dressing terrapin cannot possibly be _too_ old?"

VII.

Proceeding in accordance with the cue that Mrs. Smith had given her,
Miss Grace Winthrop engaged Mr. Livingstone in conversation upon
European topics; and was somewhat astonished to find, in view of his
past ten years in Europe, that they evidently had very little interest
for him. And all the while that she talked with him she was haunted by
the conviction that she had seen him somewhere; and all the while she
was aware of something in his manner, she could not tell what, that
seemed to imply that she ought to know who he was.

What Miss Grace Winthrop did feel entirely certain about, however, was
that this was one of the cleverest and one of the manliest men she had
ever come across. His well-shaped hands were big and brown, and his face
was brown, and the set of his head and the range of his broad shoulders
gave him an alert look and a certain air of command. There was that
about him which suggested a vigorous life in the open air. There was
nothing to suggest ten years in Europe, unless it were the charm of his
manner, and his neat way of saying bright things.

As for Livingstone, he was as one who at the same time is both entranced
and inspired. He knew that he never had been happier in his life; he
knew that he never had said so many clever things in so short a time.
Therefore it was that these young people always thereafter were most
harmoniously agreed that this was the very happiest dinner that they had
eaten in all their lives.

It came to an end much too soon for either of them. The ladies left the
room, and cigars were invoked to fill their place. This was the
moment that Livingstone had looked forward to as affording the first
practicable opportunity for taking his host apart and explaining that
his, Livingstone's, presence at that particular feast certainly must be
owing to some mistake. And this was the moment that Mr. Smith, also, had
looked forward to as available for clearing up the mystery--of which
his wife still was blissfully ignorant--as to who their stranger guest
really was. But the moment now be