"My name is John Bradford," he said, as if reading. Miss Theodosia started a little, but it was not as he thought, in his innocent vanity. Miss Theodosia got no farther than the first part of the name--so he was a John! She glanced quickly at the doorway, measuring him in her mind as he had stood against the lintel. He had reached a long way up--a long man. The Shadow Man had been a long shadow. Something told her-- [Illustration: "If you are thinking of putting me anywhere, put me into a story like that."] "Did you ever carry a child in your arms and lay her on a bed? In the middle of the night? Did you do it last night? Are you the same man?" "I am the same man I was last night," he answered gravely. "I was John Bradford then, too. Didn't I carry her all right? What was the matter?" Suddenly he leaned forward in the chair. "Did you kiss her thumbs?" he demanded. "I kissed her eyes." They were silent for a little, while Miss Theodosia set small, nervous stitches in John Bradford's shirt, and John Bradford twiddled the edges of the magazine. He stole glances, now and then, at this strange woman with whom he seemed to have come so oddly into contact. He could make a story of her dark hair, straight shoulders, beautiful hands. He could not get a good view of her full face. Bending over a bed, kissing a little sleeper's eyes--he could work her in that way. If he knew her a little better-- "I knew they did it!" "Did what--who?" "Women--kissed that way. You have proved it now." "I'm not women. I'm just one woman, and I never did it in my life before." "Well, you liked doing it, didn't you? I could put you in, liking it." The shirt slid to the floor, and Miss Theodosia gave her visitor a full view of her face. "Are you making 'copy' of me? Because if you are thinking of putting me anywhere, put me into a story like that. I'd like it. I mean, with little children in a bed--and one in a clothes basket! Say I tucked them in--Yes, I liked kissing Stefana's eyes. I should love to have another chance. It's nothing to be ashamed of, is it, to like little children?" "I like 'em. I always have." "Well, I always haven't. Only very lately--it's queer. When I came home here and found all those children next door--mercy gracious!" They both laughed. Laughing together is a great acquaintancer. Miss Thedosia suddenly thought of something and laughed a little more. "My name is Theodosia Baxter," she said. They rose and shook hands gravely. They were decently introduced. The beautiful shiny bosom of the shirt lay between them like a white mirror and Miss Theodosia caught the man's glance on it. "Is it anything to be ashamed of--doing up a shirt?" she demanded. "Not doing it up like that! That's a work of art!" "A work of heart--I did it for Stefana. I've got quite fond of it now, and shall hate to part with it. It's a friend."