She paused abruptly, colored and laughed.
“I am twenty-seven!”
“And I am just the usual age,” she said.
“Ages don’t count, but time is important. There are many things I wish you’d tell me,—you who hold the key of the gate of mystery.”
“Then you’ll have to pick the lock!”
She laughed lightly. The somber Sisters patrolling the platform with their charges heeded us little.
“I had no idea you knew Arthur Pickering—when you were just Olivia in the tam-o’-shanter.”
“Maybe you think he wouldn’t have cared for my acquaintance—as Olivia in the tam-o’-shanter. Men are very queer!”
“But Arthur Pickering is an old friend of mine.”
“So he told me.”