"And what made you decide that it was really I?"
"You were standing there just at the spot we arranged, and just at the time we arranged. You were wearing the red rose, and you raised your hand as if to call my attention to it. It was beyond mistake. But why did you say in your letter that you were of medium height? You are tall."
"Slightly over medium height, perhaps. I should hardly say tall."
"In many ways you are not what I expected. These preconceived ideas of people are always wrong. But indeed you don't look the part at all."
"Really?"
"No," she said. "I should have taken you for a man of leisure—wealthy—rather bored with life—clever perhaps—certainly selfish." And she would have taken him for very much what he was.
"I will plead guilty to the last item. And now, what shall we do?"
"Do? Just as we arranged of course. We can stroll through the Park for half an hour—talk—make each other's acquaintance. And then I shall see if in any way I can help you in your work and make your life happier."
"Suppose," said the young man, "we change the programme a little. Let me take you down to Bond Street and give you some tea there."
The look of surprise became almost suspicion. She hesitated for a moment. "Very well," she said. "That will be charming."