“And I run about the world such a lot, I can’t be expected to remember everybody’s name just all at once, can I?” “Oh, the name doesn’t matter.” “Does that mean you aren’t quite sure of mine?” “I haven’t the faintest notion of it.” “Then how do you know—what made you say, ‘Of course I knew you’?” “Because I was sure you did.” “Why should I remember you, any more than you should remember me? Are you somebody very special?” “_Very_ special.” “Who?” “Oh, you’ll hear.” “How shall I hear?” “I’ll tell you myself.” “Well, go on.” “I can’t, now.” “Why not?” “You—you’re too far off.” “When I come down, you’ll tell me?” “_Will_ you?—will you ever come down?” He was smiling. “Why shouldn’t I?” she said, bewildered. “I never saw it tried before.” “Never saw me try to come down-stairs!” “Never, yet.” Had he been here that time she sprained her ankle? “Do you imagine I’m lame?” “On the contrary, I’m ready to believe you have wings. Please fly down.” “What a very odd person you are! I can’t think how I came to forget—” He made no answer. Just stood there leaning against the heavy table, half-smiling and never turning away his eyes. She caught up her glove and ran down several steps, but just before she reached the open place where the stair turned abruptly, and the solid wall gave way to a procession of slender pillars, she stopped, overcome by a sudden rush of shyness. Behind that last yard of sheltering wall she waited breathless, while you might count seven, and then turned on a noiseless foot and fled up-stairs, bending low as she passed the square windows, so that not even the top of her brown head should be visible to that very odd man waiting for her down there in the hall. She reappeared ten minutes later with the first batch of guests, and while they were speaking to their hostess, the sunburnt man made his way to Bella, and held out his hand. “It took you a long time,” he said. “How did you manage it?” “Manage what?” “Getting down. You’re the cleverest picture I ever saw on any wall. How long do they give you?” “Out of the frame?” she said, catching up his fancy with a laugh. “Oh, only long enough to find out what you’ve done to make you the special person you say you are.” “It’s not what I _have_ done, but what I shall do.” “Well, I’m very much disappointed. I thought you must be distinguished, and now I see you’re only conceited.” He smiled—he was rather wonderful when he smiled. “Of course, I know perfectly well we’ve met before,” Bella went on, “but I don’t remember who you are.” “I’ll tell you some day.” “Some day? How absurd. Why not now?” “Because the surprise might be too great.” She opened her eyes yet wider and laughed as a girl will in recognition of a point she sees as yet only with the eye of faith. “Didn’t you promise you’d tell me if I came down?” “But you haven’t come down. You are still far out of reach.” “It’s ridiculous of you not to tell me your name.”