, even fleeting in its attempt at mirth. As she
spoke, it disappeared altogether and an almost sombre expression came
into her face.

"Thanks. I'll--wait," he said, suddenly embarrassed. She turned to the
window, resuming the wistful, preoccupied gaze down the avenue. He made
pretence of inspecting the wares on the opposite wall, but covertly
watched her out of the corner of his eye. Perhaps, calculated he, if she
were attired in the gown of one of those fashionables she might rank
with the noblest of them in beauty and delicacy. Her dark little head
was carried with all the serene pride of a lady of quality; her features
were clear cut, mobile, and absolutely flawless. He was sure of that:
his sly analysis was not as casual as one might suppose under the
circumstances. As a matter of fact, he found himself having what he
afterward called "a very good look at her." She seemed to have forgotten
his presence. The longer he looked at the delicate profile, the more
fully was he convinced that she was not all that she pretended. He
experienced a thrill of hope. If she wasn't what she pretended to be,
then surely she must be what he wanted her to be--a lady of quality. In
that case there was a mystery. The thought restored his temerity.

"Beg pardon," he said, politely sauntering up to the little counter. He
noted that she was taller than he had thought, and slender. She started
and turned toward him with a quick, diffident smile, her dark eyes
filling with an unspoken apology. "I wanted to have another look at the
broadsword there. May I get it out of the window, or will you?"

Very quickly--he noticed that she went about it clumsily despite her
supple gracefulness--she withdrew the heavy weapon from the window and
laid it upon the counter. He was looking at her with a peculiar smile
upon his lips. She flushed painfully.

"I am not--not what you would call an expert," she said frankly.

"You mean in handling broadswords," he said in his most suave manner.
"It's a cunning little thing, isn't it?" He picked up the ponderous
blade. "I don't wonder you nearly dropped it on your toes."

"There must have been giants in those days," she said, a slight shudder
passing over her.

"Whoppers," he agreed eagerly. "I've thought somewhat of buying the old
thing. Not to use, of course. I'm not a giant."

"You're not a pigmy," she supplemented, her eyes sweeping his long
figure comprehensively.

"What's the price?" he asked, his c