him, in a burlesque of melodrama, she held out her arms. "Don't
put the handcuffs on me," she begged.

Winthrop found her impudence amusing; and, with the charm of her
novelty, he was conscious of a growing conviction that,
somewhere, they had met before; that already at a crisis she had
come into his life.

"I won't arrest you," he said with a puzzled smile, "on one
condition."

"Ah!" mocked Vera; "he is generous."

"And the condition is," Winthrop went on seriously, "that you
tell me where we met before?"

The girl's expression became instantly mask-like. To learn if he
suspected where it was that they had met, she searched his face
quickly. She was reassured that of the event he had no real
recollection.

"That's rather difficult, isn't it," she continued lightly,
"when you consider I've been giving exhibitions of mind readings
for the last six weeks on Broadway, and in the homes of people
you probably know?"

"No," Winthrop exclaimed eagerly, "it wasn't in a theatre, and
it wasn't in a private house. It was -- " he shook his head
helplessly, and looked at her for assistance. "You don't know,
do you?"