"My assurance is based wholly upon the possession of a truant slipper. I am bold; but the end justifies the means,"—having in mind her foot.
Her shoulders drew together and fell.
"I am searching for the Cinderella who has lost a slipper; and I am going to call you Cinderella till I have proof that you are not she whom I seek."
"It is very kind of you," she replied, with a hint of sunshine struggling at the corners of her lips. "Have I ever met you before?"—puzzling her arched brows.
"Memory does not follow reincarnation," I answered owlishly; "but I dare say that I often met you at the Temple of Venus in the old, old days."
She appeared slightly interested.
"What, may I ask, was your business in the old, old days?"
"I played the cithern."
"And I?"
"I believe you distributed flowers."