In his preoccupation he forgot that the supper hour was passing, but at last started hastily for his room. As he rapidly turned a sharp corner he nearly ran into two ladies who were coming from an opposite direction, and looking up saw Mrs. Mayhew and the flushed, resentful face of her daughter. In spite of himself our even-pulsed philosopher flushed also, but instantly removing his hat he ejaculated:
"I beg your pardon," and passed on.
As Ida joined her cousin at the supper-table she whispered exultantly:
"He has spoken to me."
"Who has spoken to you?"
"Your artist-bear."
"How did that happen?"
"Well, he nearly ran over me—horrid thing! I suppose that's another of his peculiar ways."
"Did he embrace you?"
"Embrace me! Good heavens, what an escape I have had! So this too is characteristic of your friend?"