thought I had last night; but to-day I am positive about it.
Strange, isn't it? I wonder where we really met?"

Her dark eyes rested on him fully.

"I wonder!" she echoed, smiling. "The world is so small, and so
many people nowadays make the 'grand tour,' that it is not at all
surprising we should have passed each other en route through our
journey of life."

Gervase still hesitated, glancing about him with a singularly
embarrassed air, while she continued to watch him intently.
Presently his sensations, whatever they were, passed off, and
gradually recovering his equanimity, he became aware that he was
quite alone with one of the most fascinating women he had ever
seen. His eyes flashed, and he smiled.

"I have come to paint your picture," he said softly. "Shall I
begin?"

She had seated herself on a silken divan, and her head rested
against a pile of richly-embroidered cushions. Without waiting for
her answer, he threw himself down beside her and caught her hand
in his.

"Shall I paint your picture?" he whispered. "Or shall I make love
to you?"

She laughed,--the sweet, low laugh that somehow chilled his blood
while it charmed his hearing.