“What do you call her?”
“The yacht’s name is Diana,” said Andrews, digging his paper-cutter into the blotter on his desk.
“Queer name that, for a yacht. If I wasn’t positive that I had not mentioned my niece’s name to you, I would swear that you christened your boat since I began talking to you. However, I will have to go back to the house for a while, as I left Diana’s picture at home and Jones wants to make a cut of it for tomorrow’s Leader. I’ll be back soon and will show it to you before I take it down.”
The senior partner left the office and Andrews laughed loud and long. “Positive that he hadn’t mentioned the young lady’s name to me, was he? Oh, that reminds me that I’ll have to get the name on the yacht changed.” He reached for the ’phone and after getting into communication with the man that took care of the boat for him, he said, “Say, strike off the name and put on Diana.”
Andrews had barely resumed work when Harris came in. “Hello, old man,” he said in response to Andrews’ greeting, “I dreamed about you last night.”
“The dickens you did,” replied Andrews, “I dreamed about you.”
“This is getting interesting. What did you dream?”
“I dreamed that I saw the most beautiful woman imaginable coming toward me with outstretched arms. Just as I was about to touch her she disappeared, and in her stead, I saw you. You had a hard, cynical sneer upon your face and you said to me, ‘She is beautiful, but is she good?’ Yes, she is beautiful, but she is not good.”
“By Jove, Andrews, my dream was almost exactly like yours. What can it mean?”
Walter shook his head. “I don’t know,” he said; “but I wish you hadn’t made such a fool statement.”