and backed up to the door, sidling for me to pass within. The
policeman straightened his helmet and murmured words of adieu.

"But, if no offense, there's just one question I'd like to ask you,
sir." He swung his club with a smiling, genial air.

"Oh, dash it, no!" I responded absently.

My eye had been suddenly attracted by a feathery gleam of white through
the trees. It was slowly moving up the slope to a pavilion overlooking
the Tappan Zee.

He drew nearer with a confidential air. "Just a little argument I had
with the old woman, you know, about them pajamas. Would you mind telling
me--_as_ man to man, y'understand--if them garments is"--his voice
dropped--"is like her real shape--figger, I mean--h'm?" And he tapped
the parcel lightly with his stick.

Jenkins cleared his throat loudly and shifted the pajamas to his other
side. As for myself, I just winced as under the stroke of a
what-you-call-it, but one end of my dashed brain was being pulled by the
flashing play of the dappling sunlight there upon--

"By Jove, her figure exactly!" I ejaculated, staring.

For it _was_ her--no, dash it, _she_, I mean! I had a perfectly clear
view of her now as she paused on a little point and hung there looking
out over the Hudson. In her hand was a full-blown, ripened rose, and her
lips were shaping in ravishing little pouts as musingly she blew the
petals from her. But go they would not, but hugged back in the arms of
the light breeze, circling and fluttering about her glorious sunny head
like a swarm of rosy butterflies. It made a pretty picture!

"And what's more, they're just her color, too!" I murmured tenderly,
forgetful of everything but her, unmindful that I was not alone. For
under my hand I could feel my jolly heart quivering like a champagne
cork, freshly unfettered and thrilling eagerly under the impulse of the
mad, dancing, joyous spirit within.

"The one lovely woman in all the world!" I breathed aloud, and I felt my
eyes grow oddly moist.

And for a minute I went off in a jolly trance.

"Good-by, sir!"

It was O'Keefe's voice--oddly constrained.

"Eh?" I ejaculated, blinking at him as I came back. Then I
remembered--but what was it he had been asking? Something--

"Just, good-by!" he repeated with elaborated gentleness. Then,
straightening: "_No_ offense, I hope, if we let it go at that--I mean, I
guess you won't miss it if we _don't_ shake hands?"

I glanced at the gloves he was drawing on.

"Oh,