the dim light of the street lamps and lazily watched
the passing Saturday evening crowds.
The world was beautiful.

She undressed at last and went to bed, only to toss
wide-eyed for hours.

A hundred times she reenacted the scene in the
Library and recalled her first impression of Jim's
personality. What could such an utterly unforeseen and
extraordinary meeting mean except that it was her Fate?
Certainly he could not have planned it. Certainly she
had not foreseen such an event. It had never occurred
to her in the wildest flights of fancy that she could
meet and speak to a man under such conditions, to say
nothing of the walk in the Park and the hours she
spent in the little summer house.

And the strangest part of it all was that she could
see nothing wrong in it from beginning to end. It had
happened in the simplest and most natural way
imaginable. By the standards of conventional propriety
her act was the maddest folly; and yet she was still
happy over it.

There was one disquieting trait about him that made
her a little uneasy. He used the catch-words of the
street gamins of New York without any consciousness of
incongruity. She thought at first that he did this as
the Southern boy of culture and refinement