said to brighten, but it changed, becoming less of a mask, more human.
She felt a thrill of unaccustomed interest, less in him than in the
plan which he unconsciously suggested. Here at last was something to
do. Here was a companion who did not know her. He was watching her
closely now, and it came to him for the first time, with a sense of
surprise, that this strange woman who had spoken to him was not old,
and was even attractive.

"I think you can help me, if you will," she went on, quietly. "As I
have said, I am a stranger in New York. I have never seen anything of
it except the streets I passed through this morning between the Park
and my hotel. But I've always wanted to see it, and to-day is my first
and only opportunity, for I am going away to-night."

He surveyed her thoughtfully. The shadow had returned to his face, and
it was plain that under his air of courteous interest stirred the
self-despair she had surprised in her first look at him.

"Of course I can make out a sight-seer's list for you," he said, when
she stopped, "and I will, with pleasure. I think you'd better drop
into the Metropolitan Art Galleries while you're in the Park. I'll
write the other places in their street order going down-town, so you
won't waste time doubling on your tracks. Have you a bit of paper?"

He began to fumble in his own pockets as he spoke, but vaguely, as one
who knows the search is vain. She shook her head.

"No," she told him, "and I don't want one. That isn't my idea at all--
a list of places to look up all alone and a dismal round of dreary
sight-seeing. What I would like"--she smiled almost demurely--"is a