eat brown eyes were lustrous
and sympathetic.

Eugene met her through the good offices of Shotmeyer, who had been given
by some common friend in Boston a letter of introduction to her. He had
spoken of Eugene as being a very brilliant young artist and his friend,
and remarked that he would like to bring him up some evening to hear her
sing. Miss Channing acquiesced, for she had seen some of his drawings
and was struck by the poetic note in them. Shotmeyer, vain of his
notable acquaintances--who in fact tolerated him for his amusing
gossip--described Miss Channing's voice to Eugene and asked him if he
did not want to call on her some evening. "Delighted," said Eugene.

The appointment was made and together they went to Miss Channing's suite
in a superior Nineteenth Street boarding house. Miss Channing received
them, arrayed in a smooth, close fitting dress of black velvet, touched
with red. Eugene was reminded of the first costume in which he had seen
Ruby. He was dazzled. As for her, as she told him afterward, she was
conscious of a peculiar illogical perturbation.

"When I put on my ribbon that night," she told him, "I was going to put
on a dark blue silk one I had just bought and then I thought 'No, he'll
like me better in a red one.' Isn't that curious? I just felt as though
you were going to like me--as though we might know each other better.
That young man--what's his name--described you so accurately." It was
months afterward when she confessed that.

When Eugene entered it was with the grand air he had acquired since his
life had begun to broaden in the East. He took his relationship with
talent, particularly female talent, seriously. He stood up very
straight, walked with a noticeable stride, drove an examining glance
into the very soul of the person he was looking at. He was quick to get
impressions, especially of talent. He could feel ability in another.
When he looked at Miss Channing he felt it like a strong wave--the
vibrating wave of an intense consciousness.

She greeted him, extending a soft white hand. They spoke of how they had
heard of each other. Eugene somehow made her feel his enthusiasm for her
art. "Music is the finer thing," he said, when she spoke of his own
gift.

Christina's dark brown eyes swept him from head to foot. He was like his
pictures, she thought--and as good to look at.

He was introduced to her mother. They sat down, talking, and presently
Miss Channing sang--"Che faro sen