“Perfectly sane,” he said, moving aside, but still holding out the card. “You will not send for anyone, because now the way is open. But all the same, I wish, awfully, you would take my card and when you get home decide. Won’t you, please? It’s just a little, lonesome card,” he added, whimsically. The girl hesitated, questioning him with the wonderful gentian eyes, into which, now of a sudden, came a fixed light. A white wonder paled her face for a fleeting instant, and she moved a step nearer. Doubtingly, the gesture clearly an unconscious one, her hand touched his arm. “Have I ever seen you before? Do you know my name?” He shook his head, smiling happily. She watched the smile with open interest. “Think again!” she urged, earnestly. He was deeply troubled. He wished that he might say he had met her as a summer girl somewhere, but he could not. What he did say was: “It may strike you as absurd, but I have only seen you in a dream--a long dream!” She smiled over this and with sudden decision took the card, dropping it into her shopping bag. “You are not to follow. You promised!” “Cross my heart! I shall remain here fifteen minutes. Can you vanish back into your sunbeam in fifteen minutes?” “Completely.” Her little laugh was the finest thing he had ever heard. She smiled up into his face and passed out. Fifteen minutes later, having, with the aid of a little lady of blonde accomplishments, selected a dozen pairs of crimson and green socks and paid for them, he looked at his watch. “My dear,” he said, “I’ve changed my mind. There’s really no room in my grip for this bundle. Christmas is at hand--kindly hand them to Mother, with my best wishes.” “And I have no mother, and I never saw him before!” she said to the floorwalker, hysterically. “And red and green socks!” “Easy mash,” he laughed, “he’ll be back. Exchange for something else.” She opened a tiny vanity box and powdered her nose. It was ammunition wasted. Fate is a merry jade, at times. Half way to Jacksonville in a Pullman next day a young woman with gentian eyes, who had time and again searched her handbag, opened a package of cheap lace to finish dressing a Christmas doll, and a card dropped out. It bore the inscription, “King Dubignon.” Underneath was penciled the information that he was associated with Beeker, Toomer & Church, Architects, New York, and to this was added, “Hotel Dempsey, Macon, three days.” Fate’s little jest was the concealment of the card in a fold of the paper wrapper for twenty-four hours. CHAPTER II