A curious idea that he had seen this fellow before somewhere came over George. Yes, at some time and in some place he could have sworn that he had gazed upon that long body, that prominent Adam's apple, and that gentle expanse of face. He searched his memory. Nothing stirred.
"I have an odd feeling that we have met before," he said.
"I was thinking just the same myself," replied the other.
"My name is Finch."
"Mine is Cabot. Delancy Cabot."
George shook his head.
"I don't remember the name."
"Yours is curiously familiar. I have heard it before, but cannot think when."
"Do you live in Greenwich Village?"
"Somewhat further up-town. And you?"