"No."
"By Jove! You're a queer lot. Why, I'd have found out her name the first thing."
"But I didn't—and now I want your help to find out not only her name, but herself."
At this Jack rose, loaded his pipe solemnly, and, with the air of one who is making preparations for a work of no common kind, lighted it, flung himself back in the easy-chair, and sent forth vast volumes of smoke, which might have been considered as admirably symbolical of the state of our minds.
"Well, Macrorie," said he, at last, "I'll tell you what I'd do. I'd go round to all the hotels, and examine the lists."
"Pooh!"
"Well, then, take the directory and hunt up all the names."
"Nonsense!"
"Why 'nonsense?'"
"Because I don't know her name. Didn't I impress that upon your mind?"