if I seemed so," Eugene said. "Do you happen to have found
out my name?"

She looked surprised and a little reproachful. "Why, no. I never try
to find out people's name. Why should I? I don't claim anything for
the power; I only know I have it--and some ways it ain't always such a
blessing, neither, I can tell you!"

Eugene did not press an investigation of her meaning, but said vaguely,
"I suppose not. Shall we--"

"All right," she assented, dropping into the leather chair, with her
back to the shaded window. "You better set down, too, I reckon. I hope
you'll get something this time so you won't feel cross, but I dunno. I
can't never tell what they'll do. Well--"

She sighed, closed her eyes, and was silent, while Eugene, seated in
the stiff chair across the table from her, watched her profile, thought
himself an idiot, and called himself that and other names. And as the
silence continued, and the impassive woman in the easy-chair remained
impassive, he began to wonder what had led him to be such a fool. It
became clear to him that the similarity of his letter and Lucy's needed
no explanation involving telepathy, and was not even an extraordinary
coincidence. What, then, had brought him back to this absurd place and
caused him to be watching this absurd woman taking a nap in a chair?
In brief: What the devil did he mean by it? He had not the slightest
interest in Mrs. Horner's naps--or in her teeth, which were being
slightly revealed by the unconscious parting of her lips, as her
breathing became heavier. If the vagaries of his own mind had brought
him into such a grotesquerie as this, into what did the vagaries of
other men's minds take them? Confident that he was ordinarily saner than
most people, he perceived that since he was capable of doing a thing
like this, other men did even more idiotic things, in secret. And he
had a fleeting vision of sober-looking bankers and manufacturers and
lawyers, well-dressed church-going men, sound citizens--and all as queer
as the deuce inside!

How long was he going to sit here presiding over this unknown woman's
slumbers? It struck him that to make the picture complete he ought to be
shooing flies away from her with a palm-leaf fan.

Mrs. Horner's parted lips closed again abruptly, and became compressed;
her shoulders moved a little, then jerked repeatedly; her small
chest heaved; she gasped, and the compressed lips relaxed to a
slight contortion, then began to move, whisp