I liked Bradford from the moment I shook hands with him. There is so much in the mere touching of hands. His neither crushed as if to compel, nor flopped equivocally, but said, as it enclosed yours in its bigness, "I am here, command me." Broadway, during shopping hours, is not an ideal place for the interchange of either ideas, or more, even, than the merest courtesies; but after thanking Miss Lavinia for the dinner invitation, to which he had just sent the answer, and inquiring for Sylvia Latham, as he walked beside us for a block or two, it was very evident that he had something on his mind that he wished to say, and did not know how to compass the matter. As he talked to Miss Lavinia in jerky monosyllables,--the only speech that the noise made possible,--I had a chance to look at him. He did not possess a single feature of classic proportions, and yet he was a handsome man, owing to the illumination of his face. Brown, introspective eyes, with a merry way of shutting; heavy, dark hair and brows, and a few thoughtful lines here and there; mustache pulled down at the corners, as if by the unconscious weight of a nervously strong hand; and a firm jaw, but not squared to the point that suggests the dominance of the physical. He wore a dark gray Inverness coat, evidently one of the fruits of his English tour, and a well-proportioned soft felt hat, set on firmly, the crown creased in the precise way necessary to justify the city use of the article by a man of thirty. He seemed to be in excellent, almost boyish spirits, and so natural and wholesome withal, that I am sure I should not feel at all embarrassed at finding myself alone with him on a desert island. This is one of my pet similes of approval. Finally he blurted out: "Miss Lavinia, I do so wish your advice upon a strictly woman's matter; one, however, that is of great importance to me. I shall have to take the night express back, and this is the only time I have left. Would you--could we go in somewhere, do you think, and have something while I explain?"