before her curious eyes. Neither was it strange that in this city, whose
day-long sunshine brought every one into the public streets, he should
presently have that opportunity. It chanced that one afternoon, being
in the residential quarter, he noticed a well-dressed young girl walking
before him in company with a delicate looking boy of seven or eight
years. Something in the carriage of her graceful figure, something in
a certain consciousness and ostentation of coquetry toward her youthful
escort, attracted his attention. Yet it struck him that she was neither
related to the child nor accustomed to children's ways, and that she
somewhat unduly emphasized this to the passers-by, particularly those of
his own sex, who seemed to be greatly attracted by her evident beauty.
Presently she ascended the steps of a handsome dwelling, evidently their
home, and as she turned he saw her face. It was the girl he remembered.
As her eye caught his, he blushed with the consciousness of their former
meeting; yet, in the very embarrassment of the moment, he lifted his
hat in recognition. But the salutation was met only by a cold, critical
stare. Randolph bit his lip and passed on. His reason told him she
was right, his instinct told him she was unfair; the contradiction
fascinated him.

Yet he was destined to see her again. A month later, while seated at his
desk, which overlooked the teller's counter, he was startled to see her
enter the bank and approach the counter. She was already withdrawing
a glove from her little hand, ready to affix her signature to the
receipted form to be proffered by the teller. As she received the gold
in exchange, he could see, by the increased politeness of that official,
his evident desire to prolong the transaction, and the sidelong
glances of his fellow clerks, that she was apparently no stranger but a
recognized object of admiration. Although her face was slightly flushed
at the moment, Randolph observed that she wore a certain proud reserve,