been her sister, Mrs. Feversham. I was detailed to interview the new
Alaska delegate when he passed through Seattle, and I understood his wife
was to join him later. She was stopping over for a visit, and the society
editor called my attention to a mighty good picture of her in last
Sunday's issue. Do you know?--" he paused, looking into the girl's face
with a curious scrutiny, "there was another fine reproduction on that page
that you might have posed for. The lady served tea or punch or did
something at the same affair. But I can't remember her name--I've tried
ever since we left that station--though seems to me it was a married one."

"I remember the picture you mean; I remember. And I was there. It was a
bridge-luncheon at the Country Club in honor of Mrs. Feversham. And she--
the lady you were reminded of--won the prize. So you think I resemble that
photograph?" She tipped her head back a little, holding his glance with
her half-veiled eyes. "What an imagination!"

"Of course if you did pose for that picture, it doesn't do you half
justice; I admit that. But"--regarding her with a wavering doubt--"I guess
I've been jumping at conclusions again. They call me the 'Novelist' at the
office." He paused, laughing off a momentary embarrassment. "That's why I
didn't want to depend on getting your name from the society editor."

"I am glad you did not. It would have been very annoying, I'm sure--to the
lady. I suppose," she went on slowly, while the glamour grew in her eyes,
"I suppose nothing could induce you to keep this story out of the
_Press_."

He pursed his lips and shook his head decidedly. "I don't see how I can.
I'd do 'most anything to oblige you, but this is the biggest scoop I ever
fell into. The fellows detailed by the other papers to report the fair