George seized me by the arm. "Has she been and gone?" he cried.
"Well, I don't know. But about an hour ago a girl did come here. Now I come to think, she was something like the picture. I thought she was a model, and—"
George flung up his hands with a cry. I stopped and looked at him.
"Go on," he said excitedly. "What did she say?"
"Yes, I know it was about then, because a van had just gone up the street. You know. One of those big vans with—"
"Damn the van!" said George. "What did she say?"
"She didn't say anything. I tell you, I thought she was a model. I just said you didn't want one this morning."
George literally recoiled.
"What's the matter?" said I. "Aren't you well?"
"Had she a lilac dress on?" he cried, with the air of one hoping against hope.