what you're looking for. It's that little heart of yours. I've got it
here."

She paused almost in spite of herself. His voice was pitched very low. He
spoke to her as if he were speaking to a frightened child. And he smiled
at her with the words--a frank and kindly smile.

"You--you found it!" she stammered.

"Yes, I found it, Miss Burton." He lingered over the name half
unconsciously, and a poignant stab of memory went through her. So had he
uttered it on that day so long, so long ago! "I knew it was yours. I was
trying to bring myself to give it to Mr. Hill."

"How did you know it was mine?" She almost whispered the words, yet she
drew nearer to him, drawn irresistibly--drawn as a needle to the magnet.

He answered her also under his breath. "I--remembered."

She felt as if a wave of fire had swept over her. She swayed a little,
throbbing from head to foot.

"I have rather a good memory," he said, as she found no words. "You're
not--vexed with me on that account, I hope?"

An odd touch of wistfulness in his voice brought her eyes up to his face.
She fought for speech and answered him.

"Of course not! Why should I? It--is a very long time ago, isn't it?"