But there was in his bearing, in his carelessly attractive manner, in his gaze, a lurking hint of irresponsibility, perhaps of mischief, which did not, however, impress her disagreeably.
On the contrary, she felt oddly at ease with him, as though she had known him for some time.
"Have you forgiven me for staring at you so many years ago?" he inquired, smilingly.
She thought that she had.
But his next words startled her a little; he said, still smiling in his careless and attractive way:
"I have a queer idea that we're beginning in the middle of everything—that we've already known each other long enough to waive preliminaries and begin our acquaintance as old friends."
He was saying almost exactly what she had not put into words. He was still looking at her intently, curiously, with the same slightly importunate, slightly deferential smile which she now vividly remembered in the boy.
"Do you, by any chance, feel the same about our encounter?" he asked.
"What way?"
"That we seem to have known each other for a long time?"