The Tracer of Lost Persons
or willing to answer you may dictate to me." The beauty of her modulated voice was scarcely a surprise-no woman who moved and carried herself as did this tall young girl in black and whi
saying it once
s though some vestige of intellect remained in him. He saw her pick up a pad and pencil; th
id hastily; "what were you
t spoken-that it was the subtle eloquence of her youth and loveliness that had app
the slip of paper in
DESCRIPT
or
ittle clamor of his pulses, the dazed sense of elation, alm
me," he said; "that would giv
en she crossed one knee over the other to support the pad, and, bending above it, lifted
he person you desire
ll, I fancy it
glanced at what she had written, flushed a little, rubbed out the "she is probably
she asked w
n, vexed, "I beg your pardon-yo
t question, you see"-she held out the blank toward
led in an explanation which threatened to involve him deeper than he desired. And, looking up, he saw the beautiful
t if she is (underlined) married he
marks' at the bottom of the page"-she held it out, pointin
e pad firmly on her rounded, yie
e a surmise. You know," he said earnestly, "how diffic
ould you not hazard a guess-jud
becoming involved again. "Would you, for practice,
nk that might help
to do so. Twenty times he forgot he was looking at her for any purpose except that of disinteres
" she suggested, her color risi
hteen? Jus
wood-and you said you
eighteen; but I dare say I was shy three years in
yes rested on his, the pencil hovered in hesitatio
wenty-one'?" he i
ot, Mr.
id you
't appear to know m
I do
looked at one a
omposure, "is: 'Date and place of birth?'
e to-some day. . . .
may be able to, some day.'
I-I'm not perfectly su
to the ne
igh
ix," he said, fasc
ai
oked up quickly; his eyes reverted to the window
continued after a
kish bloom-ivory and rose-" He was explaining volubly, when
ssly vague on that point-unless you desire to
ied. "Why, I am describing a wo
eady gone to th
ee
e laughing red mouth closed like a flower
not look like that sort of man; yet why was he watching her so closely, so
inue what, coincidence or not, wa
ing, pretending to a perplexity which was r
f the color of her eyes,
ried in profound thought. "Were they blue?" he murmured to himself aloud, "or were they brown? Blue begins with a b and brown begins with a b. I'm convinced that her
nd looked slig
, is that the color of her e
I can remember; but I
t be brown now," she observe
ious I never thought of th
briefly that it sounde
he girl, turning a
it to describe its color, shape, its sensiti
'Mouth,
ant you to
y, but scarcely germane to the record of a purely business transaction
Any poem is much too brie
g transition from vexation to amusement. For, after all, it could be only a coi
us-of-Milo-like'?" he inq
mean it for praise-I-don't think a
he of Milo had an ideal f
ing her rounded chin on one lovely whit
an
-tipped, slender yet so
prising his guilty eyes fixed on her hands, hastily dropped them and sat up