fixed upon him with a look of wistful curiosity, her shapely lips just
parted to speak, and her bosom gently heaving, as though with trouble.

Poor Bottles! One look was enough. There was no chance of his attaining
the blessed haven of disillusionment. In five seconds he was farther
out to sea than ever. When she knew that he had seen her she dropped her
eyes a little--he saw the long curved lashes appear against her cheek,
and moved forward.

"How do you do?" she said softly, extending her slim, cool hand.

He took the hand and shook it, but for the life of him could think of
nothing to say. Not one of the little speeches he had prepared would
come into his mind. Yet the desperate necessity of saying something
forced itself upon him.

"How do you do?" he ejaculated with a jerk. "It--it's very cold, isn't
it?"

This remark was such an utter and ludicrous _fiasco_ that Lady Croston
could not choose but laugh a little.

"I see," she said, "that you have not got over your shyness."

"It is a long while since we met," he blurted out.

"I am very glad to see you," was her simple answer. "Now sit down and
talk to me; tell me all about yourself. Stop; before you begin--how
very curious it is! Do you know I dreamed about you last night--such a
curious, painful dream. I dreamed that I was asleep in my room--which