up, and found her standing not two feet from me. Something pulled
me out of my chair. Something made me move it toward her. I
lifted my hat and backed away. But the eyes of the lovely lady
halted me.

To my perplexity, her face expressed both surprise and pleasure.
It was as though either she thought she knew me, or that I reminded
her of some man she did know. Were the latter the case, he must
have been a friend, for the way in which she looked at me was kind.
And there was, besides, the expression of surprise and as though
something she saw pleased her. Maybe it was the quickness with
which I had offered my chair. Still looking at me, she pointed to
one of the sky-scrapers.

"Could you tell me," she asked, "the name of that building?" Had
her question not proved it, her voice would have told me not only
that she was a stranger, but that she was Irish. It was
particularly soft, low, and vibrant. It made the commonplace
question she asked sound as though she had sung it. I told her the
name of the building, and that farther uptown, as she would see
when we moved into midstream, there was another still taller. She
listened, regarding me brightly, as though interested; but before
her I was embarrassed, and, fearing I intruded, I again made a
movement to go away. With another question she stopped me. I
could see no reason for her doing so, but it was almost as though
she had asked the question only to detain me.

"What is that odd boat," she said, "pumping water into the river?"

I explained that it was a fire-boat testing her hose-lines, and