"You met me, half an hour ago," said the other man.
"Oh, you!" said Vernon affectionately.
"And your hat has gone off every half minute ever since," said the other man.
"Ah, that's to the people I've known. It's the people I've wanted to know that are the rarity."
"Do you mean people you have wanted to know and not known?"
"There aren't many of those," said Vernon; "no it's—Jove, that's a sweet woman!"
"I hate the type," said the other man briefly: "all clothes—no real human being."
The woman was beautifully dressed, in the key whose harmonies are only mastered by Frenchwomen and Americans. She turned her head as her carriage passed, and Vernon's hat went off once more.
"I'd forgotten her profile," said Vernon, "and she's learned how to dress since I saw her last. She's quite human, really, and as charming as anyone ought to be."
"So I should think," said the other man. "I'm sorry I said that, but I didn't know you knew her. How's trade?"