the floor it was a raincoat and rubber boots. Sometimes I stopped to
count the things on that dressing----"

"It was _very_ ungentlemanly of you!"

"Guilty," he admitted again--but not meekly. There was a sparkle in his
eye. "But it isn't often, you see, that a man gets a chance to take
notes like this. An open door--it's an invitation to look in. Now, the
Gay Lady doesn't leave her door open, except by chance, but I know how
it looks inside--by the Gay Lady herself."

"How?" I questioned, my curiosity getting the better of me. "I mean--how
can you tell by the look of the Gay Lady that she keeps her room in
order?--for she certainly does."

"I knew it," said he triumphantly.

"But how?"

"And I know that you keep yours in order."

"But _how_?"

"Oh, you think we are creatures of no discernment," said he. "But we can
see a few things. When a woman, no matter how pretty, pins the back of
her collar with a common brass pin----"

I felt of the back of my white stock. Of course I never use them, but
his eyes are so keen and----