"stuffiness," by these few throbbing moments.

Their hands touched, and through Annesley's darted a little tingle of
electricity that flashed up her arm to her heart, where it caught like a
hooked wire. She was surprised, almost frightened by the sensation, and
ashamed because she didn't find it disagreeable.

"It must be that people who're really _alive_, as he is, give out
magnetism," she thought. And the thrill lingered as the man thanked her
with eyes and voice.

When he had looked at the rose curiously, as if expecting to learn from
it the secret of its wearer, he put the flower away in a letter-case in
an inner breast pocket of his coat.

For once Annesley was face to face with romance, and even though she
would presently go back to the old round (since the adventure she came
out to meet had failed), she was stirred to a wild gladness in this
other adventure. The _hors d'oeuvres_ appeared; then soup, and wine,
which Mr. Smith begged her to taste.

"Drink luck for me," he insisted. "You and you alone can bring it."

Annesley drank. And the champagne filliped colour to her cheeks.

"Now we'll go on and think out the problem of what may happen at your
door--if Fate takes me there," the man said. "Your old friend's sailor
son is no use to me. He can't be whisked back from the North Pole to
London for my benefit. Perhaps I may be an acquaintance of Archdeacon
Smith's, mayn't I, if worst comes to worst? I've been dining there, and