they rattled. As the girl advanced, smiling, to greet Mr.
Hallowell, she suddenly stopped, shivered slightly, and threw
her right arm across her eyes. Her left arm she stretched over
the table.

"Give me your hand!" she commanded. Dubiously, with a watchful
glance at Vance, Mr. Hallowell leaned forward and took her hand.

"You have been ill," cried the girl; "very ill -- I see you -- I
see you in a kind of faint -- very lately." Her voice rose
excitedly. "Yes, last night."

Mr. Hallowell protested with indignation. "You read that in the
morning paper," he said.

Vera lowered her arm from her eyes and turned them reproachfully
on him.

"I don't read the Despatch," she answered.

Mr. Hallowell drew back suspiciously. "I didn't say it was the
Despatch," he returned.

Vance quickly interposed. "You don't have to say it," he
explained with glibness; "you thought it. And Vera read your
thoughts. You were thinking of the Despatch, weren't you? Well,
there you are! It's wonderful!"

"Wonderful? Nonsense!" mocked Mr. Hallowell. "She did read it in
the paper or Rainey told her."