Too completely upset to do any more work that day, I wandered about amid the gaily dressed crowds at hazard; sometimes I contemplated the monkeys; sometimes gazed sadly upon the seals. They dashed and splashed and raced round and round their tank, or crawled up on the rocks, craned their wet, sleek necks, and barked--houp! houp! houp! For luncheon I went over to the Rolling Stone Restaurant. There was a very pretty girl there--an unusually pretty girl--or perhaps it was one of those days on which every girl looked unusually pretty to me. There are such days. Her voice was exquisite when she spoke. She said: "We have, today, corned beef hash, fried ham and eggs, liver and bacon--" but let that pass, too. I took my tea very weak; by that time I learned that her name was Mildred Case; that she had been a private detective employed in a department store, and that her duties had been to nab wealthy ladies who forgot to pay for objects usually discovered in their reticules, bosoms, and sometimes in their stockings. But the confinement of indoor work had been too much for Mildred Case, and the only outdoor job she could find was the position of lady waitress in the rustic Rolling Stone Inn. She was very, very beautiful, or perhaps it was one of those days--but let that pass, too. "You are the great Mr. Percy Smith, Curator of the Anthropological Department, are you not?" she asked shyly. "Yes," I said modestly; and, to slightly rebuke any superfluous pride in me, I paraphrased with becoming humility, pointing upward: "but remember, Mildred, there is One greater than I." "Mr. Carnegie?" she nodded innocently. That was true, too. I let it go at that. We chatted: she mentioned Professor Boomly and Dr. Quint, gently deploring the rupture of their friendship. Both gentlemen, in common with the majority of the administration personnel, were daily customers at the Rolling Stone Inn. I usually took my lunch from my boarding-house to my office, being too busy to go out for mere nourishment. That is why I had hitherto missed Mildred Case. "Mildred," I said, "I do not believe it can be wholesome for a man to eat sandwiches while taking minute measurements of defunct monkeys. Also, it is not a fragrant pastime. Hereafter I shall lunch here." "It will be a pleasure to serve you," said that unusually--there I go again! It was an unusually beautiful day in June. Which careful, exact, and scientific statement, I think ought to cover the subject under consideration. After luncheon I sadly selected a five-cent cigar; and, as I hesitated, lingering over the glass case, undecided still whether to give full rein to this contemplated extravagance, I looked up and found her beautiful grey eyes gazing into mine. "What gentle thoughts are yours, Mildred?" I said softly. "The cigar you have selected," she murmured, "is fly-specked."