Eileen clung tightly to Phil’s arm as they strolled leisurely along, leaving the lights of the dance-hall and the noise behind them, and going down the main avenue in the direction that led to the Okanagan Lake.
“Do you know, Mr. Ralston,” remarked Eileen suddenly, during a lull in what had been a desultory, flippant, bantering sort of conversation, “I can’t explain how it is and I know it is ridiculous on the face of it; but sometimes I have the feeling that I have met you before.”
Phil felt a tightening in his jaws, and he was grateful for the darkness.
“Do you ever feel that way about people?”
“Oh, yes,––occasionally,––with some people!” Phil stammered. “I feel that way with Jim Langford all the time.”
“But I can’t ever have met you before you came to Vernock?”
“No,––oh no! I am quite sure of that,” said Phil.
“Haven’t you ever been here before?”
“No,––never!” Phil had to say it.
“You’ve never seen me in Vancouver for instance,––or in Victoria?”