"I have seen you once before, Mrs. Warriner," said Charnock, as they seated themselves in an alcove of the room. "Yes," she returned promptly, "at Monte Carlo, six years ago," and her face lost its look of enjoyment and darkened with some shadow from her memories. The change was, however, unremarked by Charnock. "It seems strange," he said in an absent voice, "that we should meet first of all in a gambling-room, and the next time at a ball." "Why?" The question could not be answered. Charnock had a real but inexplicable feeling that Miranda and he should have met somewhere amidst the grandeur of open spaces, in the centre of the Sahara, and for the moment he forgot to calculate the effect of the sand upon Miranda's eyes. This feeling, however, he could hardly express at the present point of their acquaintanceship; and, indeed, he immediately ceased to be aware of it. "Do you actually remember our meeting in that way six years ago?" he exclaimed. "How wonderful of you!" "Why?" again asked Mrs. Warriner. "Why is it wonderful, since you remember it?" "Ah, but I didn't remember it until"--he paused for a second or two--"until I saw your face in a looking-glass." Miranda glanced at him in considerable perplexity. Then she said with a demure smile, "I have at times seen it there myself." "No doubt," he replied with a glance at the cunning arrangement of her hair. "My maid does that," said she, biting her lip. "No doubt, but you sit in front of the glass at the time. You're in the room," he continued hastily; "but when I saw your face in my mirror, you couldn't be. I was in bed,--I mean,--let me tell you!" He stopped, overwhelmed with embarrassment. Miranda, with an air of complete unconsciousness, carefully buttoned her glove; only the glove was already buttoned, and her mouth twitched slightly at the corners. "It was just a week ago to-day," Charnock began again. "I got home to my hotel late." "Ah!" murmured Mrs. Warriner, as though the whole mystery was now explained to her. "I assure you," he retorted with emphasis, "that I dined in the train and drank nothing more serious than railway claret." "I made no accusation whatever," Miranda blandly remarked, and seemed very well pleased. "After I had fallen asleep, I began to dream, but not about you, Mrs. Warriner; that's the strange feature of the business. It wasn't that I had been thinking of you that evening, or indeed, that I had ever been at all in the habit of thinking--" Again Charnock was utterly confused. "I don't seem to be telling the story with the best taste in the world, do I?" he said ruefully. "Never mind," she said in a soothing voice. "Of course, I could have turned it into a compliment," he continued. "Only I take it you have no taste for compliments, and I lack the experience to put them tactfully."