I gazed at her admiringly for a moment, and then I began:
"Is that the costume you wore"--I was going to say, "when you
rejected Parker?" but I fortunately caught my error in time to pass
it off--"at Newport?" I finished, with a half gasp at the narrowness
of my escape; for, it must be remembered, I was supposed as yet to
know nothing of that episode.
"How do you know what I wore at Newport?" she asked, quickly--so
quickly that I almost feared she had found me out, after all.
"Why--ah--I read about you somewhere," I stammered. "Some newspaper
correspondent drew a picture of the scene on the promenade in the
afternoon, and--ah--he had you down."
"Oh!" she replied, arching her eyebrows; "that was it, was it? And
do you waste your valuable time reading the vulgar effusions of the
society reporter?"
Wasn't I glad that I had not come as a man with a nose to project
into the affairs of others--as a newspaper reporter!
"No, indeed," I rejoined, "not generally; but I happened to see this
particular item, and read it and remembered it.
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