“Still,” she asserted, “I knew you the moment my eyes rested on your face.” “Did you?” “Yes.” “Yet you did not pause.” “No.” “You did not bow.” “No.” “You hurried on without a sign of recognition.” His manner was an accusation, and she bowed her head, as if ashamed of what she had done. “It is plain,” said Merry gently, “that, for some reason, you did not wish me to recognize you. What that reason was I will not ask, for it is none of my business.” She made a feeble gesture of protest. “I was so startled—so astonished. I did not think of seeing you here, and it was a shock. Yet—I knew you instantly!” She spoke the final words in a tone of triumph, and he almost fancied she was reproving him for his failure to remember her name. “How could I forget?” she went on, her voice trembling a little. “You have not changed—only—you’re a little older and—and—handsomer! There—I’ve said it! I suppose it was bold and unladylike, but it would come out.” Merry was compelled to laugh. “Miss Dugan,” he said, yet not after the manner of the common flatterer, “you have given me the very reason why I did not remember you. You are older and—handsomer. When I met you I thought you were—I won’t tell you what I did think, for it will sound like a silly attempt to flatter.” “I’m glad you did not say it!” she exclaimed. “I know I’m not homely. Frank of me to say so, isn’t it? But I do not believe in false modesty, Mr. Merriwell, and I have sense enough to know what my mirror tells me. Now, that is unconventional, you must confess.” It was, in truth, and something about it charmed and attracted him as he had been charmed and attracted by this girl the first time he saw her. She was not merely an ordinary girl who did the same things and said the same things as other girls. She had ways of her own which made her seem original and attractive and fascinating. To himself Frank confessed that she possessed a most dangerous power of fascination if she but knew how to wield it. “Rather unconventional,” he acknowledged, laughing. “But you have not explained why you failed to bow to me when you recognized me on the street.” “Perhaps I cannot explain, for it may be that I do not quite know myself.” This was strange, and Frank feared she was trying to evade the point by an adroit turn. “And you will not permit me to take you home?” “I have no real home in New York; I’m simply stopping here for the time.” “You will not allow me to take you to your stopping-place?” “I think you had better not, Mr. Merriwell.” “It is for you to choose; but there is much we might talk about, and——” “Yes, yes—but—no—I will not!” She had seemed to waver for a moment. Frank’s thoughts flew swiftly. They were approaching Forty-second Street. “Then, if you will not do that,” he said, “here is Shanley’s, just ahead, and we can go in there.” “Oh, I am not dressed for it!”