of tan above her girlish decolletage; Annette smiling rather formally
as though this conventional passage after their unconventional meeting
and acquaintance sat in embarrassment on her spirits; Annette saying in
that vibrant boyish contralto which came always as a surprise out of
her exquisite whiteness:

"How do you do, Dr. Blake--you are back in the city rather earlier than
you expected, aren't you?"

He was conscious of shock, emotional and professional--emotional that
they had not taken up their relation exactly where they left it
off--professional because of her appearance. Not only was she pale and
just a little drawn of facial line, but that indefinable look of one
"called" was on her again.

All this he gathered as he made voluble explanation--the attendance at
the sanitorium had fallen off with the approach of autumn--they really
needed no assistant to the resident physician--he thought it best to
hurry his search for an opening in New York before the winter should
set in. Then, put at his ease by his own volubility, and remembering
that it is a lover's policy to hold the advantage gained at the last
battle, he added:

"And of course you may guess another reason."

This she parried with a woman-of-the-world air, quite different from
her old childlike frankness.

"The theatrical season, I suppose. It opens earlier every year."