time ago. I suppose--no, it couldn't have happened, or I should
remember." He was smiling, half at himself.

"No," I smiled back at him. "It didn't happen, I'm afraid--unless
we dreamed it."

"We?"

"I felt that way, too, for a moment."

"The Brushwood Boy!" he said with conviction. "Perhaps we will
find a common dream life, where we knew each other. You remember
the Brushwood Boy loved the girl for years before they really
met." But this was a little too rapid, even for me.

"Nothing so sentimental, I'm afraid," I retorted. "I have had
exactly the same sensation sometimes when I have sneezed."

Betty Mercer captured him then and took him off to see Jim's
newest picture. Anne pounced on me at once.

"Isn't he delicious?" she demanded. "Did you ever see such
shoulders? And such a nose? And he thinks we are parasites,
cumberers of the earth, Heaven knows what. He says every woman
ought to know how to earn her living, in case of necessity! I
said I could make enough at bridge, and he thought I was joking!
He's a dear!" Anne was enthusiastic.

I looked after him. Oddly enough the feeling that we had met
before stuck to me. Which was ridiculous, of course, for we