close? There are thousands and thousands like you in the throng;--some
poor, some poorer; some good, some better; some young, some younger; all
trotting across the world on eager feet. Where? Nobody knows. Why?
Nobody knows. Heigh-ho! Your portrait is done, little neighbor."

He hovered over the delicate sketch, silent a moment, under the spell of
his own work. "If you were like this, a man might fall in love with
you," he muttered, raising his eyes.

The development of ideas is always remarkable, particularly on a sunny
day in spring-time. Sunshine, blue sky, and the perfume of the wistaria
were too much for Tennant.

"I'm going out!" he said, abruptly, and put on his hat. Then he drew on
his gloves, lighted a cigarette, and glanced across at his neighbor.

"I wish you were going, too," he said.

His neighbor had risen and was now standing by her window, hands clasped
behind her, gazing dreamily out into the sunshine.

"Upon my word," said Tennant, "you are really as pretty as my sketch!
Now isn't that curious? I had no idea--"

A rich tint crept into his neighbor's face, staining the white skin with
carmine.

"The sun is doing you good," he said, approvingly. "You ought to put on
your hat and go out."

She turned, as though she had heard his words, and picked up a big,
black straw hat, placing it daintily upon her head.

"Well!--if--that--isn't--curious!" said Tennant, astonished, as she
swung nonchalantly towards an invisible mirror and passed a long,
gilded pin through the crown of her hat.

"It seems that I only have to suggest a thing--" He hesitated, watching
her.

"Of course it was coincidence," he said; "but--suppose it wasn't?
Suppose it was telepathy--thought transmitted?"

His neighbor was buttoning her gloves.

"I'm a beast to stand here staring," he murmured, as she moved leisurely
towards her window, apparently unconscious of him. "It's a shame," he
added, "that we don't know each other! I'm going to the Park; I wish you
were--I want you to go--because it would do you good! You must go!"

Her left glove was now buttoned; the right gave her some difficulty,
which she started to overcome with a hair-pin.

"If mental persuasion can do it, you and I are going to meet under the
wistaria arbor in the Park," he said, with emphasis.

To concentrate his thoughts he stood rigid, thinking as hard as a young
man can think with a distractingly pretty girl fastening her glove
opposite; and the eff