a coincidence that we breathe; certainly it is a mighty coincidence
that we speak to one another and comprehend; for these are true marvels.
But what petty interlacings of human action so pique our sense of
the theatrical that we call them coincidences and are astonished! That
Julia should arrive during Noble's long process of buying a ticket to go
to her was stranger than that she stopped to look at him, though still
not comparable in strangeness to the fact that either of them, or any
living creature, stood upon the whirling earth;--yet when Noble Dill
comprehended what was happening he was amazed.

She spoke to him.

"Noble!" she said.

He stared at her. His elbow sagged away from the window; the whole
person of Noble Dill seemed near collapse. He shook; he had no voice.

"I just this minute got off the train," she said. "Are you going away
somewhere?"

"No," he whispered; then obtained command of a huskiness somewhat
greater in volume. "I'm just standing here."

"I told the porter to get me a taxicab," she said. "If you're going home
for dinner I'll drop you at your house."

"I--I'm--I----" His articulation encountered unsurmountable
difficulties, but Julia had been with him through many such trials
aforetime. She said briskly, "I'm awfully hungry and I want to get
home. Come on--if you like?"

He walked waveringly at her side through the station, and followed her
into the dim interior of the cab, which became fragrant of violets--an
emanation at once ineffable and poisonous.

"I'm so glad I happened to run across you," she said, as they began to
vibrate tremulously in unison with the fierce little engine that drew
them. "I want to hear all the news. Nobody knows I'm home. I didn't
write or telegraph to a soul; and I'll be a complete surprise to father
and everybody--I don't know how pleasant a one! _You_ didn't seem so
frightfully glad to see me, Noble!"

"Am I?" he whispered. "I mean--I mean--I mean: Didn't I?"

"No!" she laughed. "You looked--you looked shocked! It couldn't have
been because I'm ill or anything, because I'm not; and if I were you
couldn't have told it through these two veils. Possibly I'd better take
your expression as a compliment." She paused, then asked hesitatingly,
"Shall I?"

This was the style for which the Atwaters held Julia responsible; but
they were mistaken: she was never able to control it. Now she went
cheerily on: "Perhaps not, as you don't answer. I shouldn't be so