is the next question?" he stammered, eager to answer it in a
manner calculated to allay her suspicions.

"The next question?" She glanced at the list, then with a voice of
velvet which belied the eyes, clear as frosty brown pools in November:
"The next question requires a description of her feet."

"Feet! Oh---they--they're rather large--why, her feet are enormous, I
believe--"

She looked at him as though stunned; suddenly a flood of pink spread,
wave on wave, from the white nape of her neck to her hair; she bent low
over her pad and wrote something, remaining in that attitude until her
face cooled.

"Somehow or other I've done it again!" he thought, horrified. "The best
thing I can do is to end it and go home."

In his distress he began to hedge, saying: "Of course, she is rather
tall and her feet are in some sort of proportion--in fact, they are
perfectly symmetrical feet--"

Never in his life had he encountered a pair of such angrily beautiful
eyes. Speech stopped with a dry gulp.

"We now come to 'General Remarks,'" she said in a voice made absolutely
steady and emotionless. "Have you any remarks of that description to
offer, Mr. Gatewood?"

"I'm willing to make remarks," he said, "if I only knew what you wished
me to say."

She mused, eyes on the sunny window, then looked up. "Where did you last
see her?"

"Near Fifth Avenue."

"And what street?"

He named the street.

"Near _here_?"

"Rather," he said timidly.

She ruffled the edges of her pad, wrote something and erased it, bit her
scarlet upper lip, and frowned.

"Out of doors, of course?"

"No; indoors," he admitted furtively.

She looked up with a movement almost nervous.

"Do you dare--I mean, care--to be more concise?"

"I would rather not," he replied in a voice from which he hoped he had
expelled the tremors of alarm.

"As you please, Mr. Gatewood. And would you care to answer any of these
other questions: Who and what are or were her parents? Give all
particulars concerning all her relatives. Is she employed or not? What
are her social, financial, and general circumstances? Her character,
personal traits, aims, interests, desires? Has she any vices? Any
virtues? Talents? Ambitions? Caprices? Fads? Are you in love with her?
Is--"

"Yes," he said, "I am."

"Is she in love with you?"

"No; she hates me--I'm afraid."

"Is she in love with anybody?"

"That is a very difficult--"

The girl wrote: "He doesn't know," with