one has some set purpose and traverses a thousand times the same
streets, crossing daily at the same points as though upon the pursuit
of a chalked line. Mary-in-the-glass, therefore, constructing a re-
encounter, happened to be strolling along the scene of the accident,
and lo! there was he!

Unhappily this vision was transient. Mary-outside-the-glass, that cold
young woman, got in a word here that erased the picture. The square
where the cab crashed was too far afield to take the children for
their walk; holiday was a boon rarely granted and never granted at the
particular hour of the catastrophe--the only time of day at which,
according to the chalked-line theory, she might reasonably expect to
find the stranger in the same spot.

But Mary did not brood long upon this melancholy obstacle; drove away
Mary-outside-the-glass; became again Mary-in-the-glass. And they are
impossible creatures these Marys-in-the-glass. They will approach an
unbridged chasm across which no Mary-out-side could by any means
adventure, and, floating the gulf, will deliriously roam in the fields
beyond.

So now. And in that dream-world of the musing brain Mary with her
stranger sublimely wandered. With her form and his she peopled all the
favourite spots she knew; contrived others and strolled in them;
introduced other persons, and marked their comment on her dear
companion.

It was he whom she made to do mighty deeds in those misty fields; of
herself hers were merely a girl's gentle fancies, held modest by her
sex's natural desire to be loved for itself alone--not for big