Stirring two lumps of sugar into his cup of coffee, he looked up suddenly, to find her gray eyes meeting his across the table. They smiled like friends. "Of what are you thinking?" she asked. "I was thinking that perhaps you had forgiven me," he said, hopefully. "I have"--she frowned a little--"I _think_ I have." "And--you do not think me a coward?" "No," she said, watching him, chin propped on her linked fingers. He laughed gratefully. "As a matter of cold fact," he observed, "if we had met anywhere in town--under other circumstances--there is no reason that I can see why we shouldn't have become excellent friends." "No reason at all," she said, thoughtfully. "And that reminds me," he went on, dropping his voice and leaning across the table, "I'm going to send back a telegram to my sister, and I fancy you may wish to send one to your wandering brother." "I suppose I'd better," she said. An involuntary shiver passed over her. "He's probably frantic," she added. "Probably," he admitted. "My father and mother are in Europe," she observed. "I hope my brother hasn't cabled them." "I think we'd better get those telegrams off," he said, motioning the waiter to bring the blanks and find pen and ink. They waited, gazing meditatively at each other. Presently he said: "I'd like to tell you what it is that sends me flying down to Florida at an hour's notice. I think some explanation is due you--if it wouldn't bore you?" "Tell me," she said, quietly. "Why, then, it's that headlong idiot of a brother of mine," he explained. "He's going to try to marry a girl he has only known twenty-four hours--a girl we never heard of. And I'm on my way to stop it!--the young fool!--and I'll stop it if I have to drag him home by the heels! Here's the telegram we got late this afternoon--a regular bombshell." He drew the yellow bit of paper from his breast-pocket, unfolded it, and read: "'ST. AUGUSTINE, FLORIDA. "'I am going to marry to-morrow the loveliest girl in the United States. Only met her yesterday. Love at first sight. You'll all worship her! She's eighteen, a New-Yorker, and her name is Marie Hetherford. JIM.'" He looked up angrily. "What do you think of that?" he demanded. "Think?" she stammered--"think?" She dropped her hands helplessly, staring at him. "Marie Hetherford is my sister!" she said. "Your--sister," he repeated, after a long pause--"_your_ sister!" She pressed a white hand to her forehead, clearing her eyes with a gesture. "Isn't it too absurd!" she said, dreamily. "My sister sent us a telegram like yours. Our parents are abroad. So my brother and I threw some things into a trunk and--and started! Oh, did you _ever_ hear of anything like this?" "Your sister!" he repeated, dazed. "_My_ brother and _your_ sister. And I am on my way to stop it; and you are on your way to stop it--"