"YOU NEVER SAW ME IN BLACK"
"Oh!" she gasped faintly.
That was all she said at first, her big blue eyes wide distended, her white-gloved wrists curving above the chair-arms as though to rise. Easy to see she was completely floored at seeing me.
And as it was her move, I just sat kind of grinning, you know, and holding her tight with my monocle.
Then her mouth twitched a bit; next her head went up and I heard again that delicious birdlike carol of a laugh. Her eyes came to rest upon the hat in my hand. I had slipped my Harvard band around it, remembering the admiration she had expressed for our colors.
"Oh!" she said again, and she looked at me hesitatingly. "Mr. Jones, is it not—or is it—"
I chuckled. "Mr. Smith, you know," I said. "Mr. Smith, of course."
And then I just went on chuckling, for I thought it so devilish clever of her, so humorous. And just then I thought of a dashed good repartee:
"Months—so many months, you know, since we met!" And I thought it delightful the way she puckered her lovely little forehead and looked me over. But she just looked so devilish enticing, I couldn't keep it up myself. I leaned nearer and spoke behind my hat, trying to look the love I felt.
"Didn't expect to see me, did you?"