was living the day over again and, in anticipation, the day
off, still to come. He rehearsed their next meeting at the
station; he considered whether or not he would meet her with
a huge bunch of violets or would have it brought to her when
they were at luncheon by the head waiter. He decided the
latter way would be more of a pleasant surprise. He planned
the luncheon. It was to be the most marvellous repast he
could evolve; and, lest there should be the slightest error,
he would have it prepared in advance--and it should cost half
his week's salary.

The place where they were to dine he would leave to her,
because he had observed that women had strange ideas about
clothes--some of them thinking that certain clothes must go
with certain restaurants. Some of them seemed to believe
that, instead of their conferring distinction upon the
restaurant, the restaurant conferred distinction upon them.
He was sure Sister Anne would not be so foolish, but it might
be that she must always wear her nurse's uniform and that she
would prefer not to be conspicuous; so he decided that the
choice of where they would dine he would leave to her. He
calculated that the whole day ought to cost about eighty
dollars, which, as star reporter, was what he was then
earning each week. That was little enough to give for a day
that would be the birthday of his life! No, he contradicted--
the day he had first met her must always be the birthday of
his life; for never had he met one like her and he was sure
there never would be one like her. She was so entirely
superior to all the others, so fine, so difficult--in her
manner there was something that rendered her