"Why—I don't think—I don't expect to forget you. I suppose I am likely to know you some day.... Who are you, please? Somebody very grand in New York?"
"My name is Quarren."
There was a silence; she glanced down at the ball-room floor through the lattice screen, then slowly turned around to look at him again.
"Have you ever heard of me?" he asked, smiling.
"Yes."
"Are you disappointed?"
"Y-es. Pleasantly.... I supposed you to be—different."
He laughed:
"Has the world been knocking me very dreadfully to you, Mrs. Leeds?"
"No.... One's impressions form without any reason—and vaguely—from—nothing in particular.—I thought you were a very different sort of man.—I am glad you are not."