"Yes," assented the young millionaire without animation, "but, as _I_ said before, I soon got tired of it. The pastime of collecting pictures became a burden, and I was glad to get abroad and forget it." "Well," said Barnes, "I guess the only thing for you to do is to go to work at something." "I know it," grumbled Gladwin, "but what's the incentive? I don't want any more money--what I have now is the biggest sort of a nuisance. Just see the trouble I'm in for with my lawyer and that man Watkins, though to tell you the truth I am beginning to enjoy the novelty of that." The young man got up and assumed a more lively expression. "Do you know, Whitney," he ran on, "this travelling incognito isn't half bad. They are really getting suspicious of me at the Ritz." "But surely some one there ought to know you." "Not a soul! It was opened while I was abroad. You know I registered as Thomas Smith and I even took a chance and went down into the grill room for lunch. And there, Whitney," cried Gladwin with an explosive burst of enthusiasm, "I nearly got a thrill--another one like that on the trolley car. The last place you'd expect it, too, in the midst of stiff formality and waiters so cold and haughty they might have risen from the dead." "I suppose this was the ravishing girl at the cigar counter?" said Barnes, ironically. "Nothing of the sort--never smoked a cigar in her life--I mean, that is, well, something entirely different. But she was a beauty! Golden bronze hair--Titian never painted anything like it; the bluest eyes behind the most wonderful dark lashes, creamy white skin"---- "And you followed her to a cloak factory, where you found"---- "Please wait till I finish, Whitney. I followed her nowhere, though she interested me tremendously. I wish you could have seen her eat." "Eat?" "Particularly the grapefruit. By Jove, Barnes, that girl certainly loves grapefruit! It was fascinating. I couldn't keep my eyes off of her." "And did she notice you?" quizzed Barnes, raising his eyebrows. "She was too busy," came the gloomy rejoinder. "I watched her steadily, fairly bored her with my eyes--tried to will her to look at me. They say you can do that, you know--mental telepathy, projecting thought waves or something of the sort." "Oh, rot!" cried Barnes, impatiently. "I tried that on a dog once and I've got the scar yet." "But I tell you, Whitney, it almost worked. After a time her eyelids began to flutter and the roses in her cheeks bloomed darker. But just as I felt sure she would look up and see me--splash! the grapefruit hit her in the eye!" "What!" ejaculated Whitney Barnes, wheeling open-mouthed and facing his friend. "The juice, I mean," Gladwin laughed ruefully, "and, of course, the spell was broken. She never looked again. Dash it all, there's some sort of a lemon in all my romances!"