"I suppose that is the point at which you usually bow humbly and wait for applause; but I scorn to notice anything so commonplace. If you were going to prove me to be the same person you met at the Annandale station, how should you go about it?" "Well, to be explicit, you walk like an angel." "You are singularly favored in having seen angels walk, Mr. Donovan. There's a popular superstition that they fly. In my own ignorance I can't concede that your point is well taken. What next?" "Your head is like an intaglio wrought when men had keener vision and nimbler fingers than now. With your hair low on your neck, as it is to-night, the picture carries back to a Venetian balcony centuries ago." "That's rather below standard. What else, please?" "And that widow's peak--I would risk the direst penalties of perjury in swearing to it alone." She shrugged her shoulders. "You are an observant person. That trifling mark on a woman's forehead is usually considered a disfigurement." "But you know well enough that I did not mention it with such a thought. You know it perfectly well." "No; foolish one," she said mockingly, "the widow's peak can not be denied. I suppose you don't know that the peak sometimes runs in families. My mother had it, and her mother before her." "You are not your mother or your grandmother; so I am not in danger of mistaking you." "Well, what else, please?" "There's the emerald. Miss Pat has the same ring, but you are not Miss Pat. Besides, I have seen you both together." "Still, there are emeralds and emeralds!" "And then--there are your eyes!" "There are two of them, Mr. Donovan!" "There need be no more to assure light in a needful world, Miss Holbrook." "Good! You really have possibilities!" She struck her palms together in a mockery of applause and laughed at me. "To a man who is in love everything is possible," I dared. "The Celtic temperament is very susceptible. You have undoubtedly likened many eyes to the glory of the heavens." "I swear--" "Swear not at all!" "Then I won't!"--and we laughed and were silent while the water rippled in the reeds, the insects wove their woof of sound and ten struck musically from St. Agatha's. "I must leave you." "If you go you leave an empty world behind." "Oh, that was pretty!" "Thank you!" "Conceited! I wasn't approving your remark, but that meteor that flashed across the sky and dropped into the woods away out yonder." "Alas! I have fallen farther than the meteor and struck the earth harder." "You deserved it," she said, rising and drawing the veil about her throat. "My lack of conceit has always been my undoing; I am the humblest man alive. You are adorable," I said, "if that's the answer." "It isn't the answer! If mere stars do this to you, what would you be in moonlight?"