"Madame Eulalie will see you now, sir," announced the maid, breaking in upon his reverie.
Hamilton Beamish entered the inner room. And, having entered it, stopped dead.
"You!" he exclaimed.
The girl gave that fleeting pat at her hair which is always Woman's reaction to the unexpected situation. And Hamilton Beamish looking at that hair emotionally, perceived that he had been right in his yesterday's surmise. It was, as he had suspected, a gleamy mass, sparkling with life and possessing that incomparable softness, freshness and luxuriance.
"Why, how do you do?" said the girl.
"I'm fine," said Hamilton Beamish.
"We seem fated to meet."
"And I'm not quarrelling with fate."
"No?"
"No," said Hamilton Beamish. "Fancy it being you!"
"Fancy who being me?"
"Fancy you being you." It occur
