“Horace, have you ever noticed that pretty, sad-looking woman, dressed in black, who goes by here so frequently, leading a little child?�
“Pretty, sad woman, dressed in black—small child. A definite description, truly. How many in this delightful city will answer to the same, think you? Pretty—in a city noted for handsome women; sad—few are happy; dressed in black—the fashionable street dress at present; and small child—not a scarce article, I believe. Really, Nellie, you must be more specific.� And Mr. Wylie laid his paper carefully over the arm of his chair and smiled provokingly at his wife.
“Oh, you are too bad! This lady has such a sweet face, she is really conspicuous, and she always comes down Leader Avenue at about this hour and turns down Herald Street, going into one of those blocks across the way. I feel quite sure she gets sewing to do, for she usually carries a good-sized parcel with her. She is very interesting.�
“Why, my dear, I am surprised at your enthusiasm. You really seem to have been cultivating a habit of observation.� Mr. Wylie leaned his head against the back of his chair and looked at his wife through half-closed eyes, while with his large, shapely hand he softly stroked his smooth chin.
“A woman with a parcel and a mystery,� he continued. “I am not sure but you would shine as a female detective, Nellie. Shall I send in your name at the next meeting of the police board?�
Mrs. Wylie looked at her husband with a petulant pout of her pretty lips. “You are really unkind to ridicule me when I want to be very serious. Truly, I believe this is a woman with a mystery and history. She has attracted me wonderfully, as she would you could you see her. I wish I knew of some way to learn more about her.�
“And so you have been sitting here watching for the unknown, when I supposed you were studying costumes, or mentally rhapsodizing upon the architectural beauties of the stone walls opposite. I am afraid, Nellie, you are getting lonely. The Misses Eldridge have not called lately, or that dear, delightful Mrs. Lee, about whom you were raving a month ago, has gone away. I must look into this. When my wife is forced to seek amusement and objects of interest in the faces of the passers-by upon the streets—�
“Oh, how fortunate! There she comes now! You shall see for yourself,� interrupted Mrs. Wylie, eagerly leaning forward and scanning the street before her. “She will be opposite here before long.�
Mr. Wylie arose languidly, and slightly shaking his body to adjust his clothing, moved gracefully across the room to his wife’s side, where, glancing over her shoulder, he sought the described woman. Among the throng of hurrying pedestrians crossing the street a few rods away they saw a lady, dressed in plain and unassuming black, slowly accommodating her footsteps to the pace of the little toddler at her side, who trudged along with the half-tottering, uncertain gait of infants of her age. So slowly was she obliged to walk that the spectators at the window had ample opportunity for close inspection.
The woman was of medium height, slender and pliant, with a fine poise of the head and grace of sloping shoulders. Her face was pale, too pale for perfect health, Elinor Wylie thought, and her features were clear-cut and expressive. But the beauty of her face was in her eyes. As she came opposite the hotel she seemed accidentally to glance upward. Involuntarily Mr. and Mrs. Wylie drew back from the window, then looked at each other and laughed.