Although he had ordered after us, his meal kept pace with our own.  In fact, he called for his check, paid it and left the restaurant before we did.  As he passed out of the door I drew a breath of relief and fell to my neglected lunch.

“I hope I’ve seen the last of him,” I said vindictively.

Lillian did not answer.  I looked up surprised to see her chin cupped in her hands, in the attitude which was characteristic of her when she was studying some problem, her eyes following the man as he made his way slowly down the street, swinging his stick with a pre-occupied air.  She continued to stare after him until he was out of sight, then with a start, she came back to herself.

“You were right, Madge, and I was wrong,” she said reflectively, still as if she were studying her problem; “that man is no ‘masher.’”

I looked up startled.  “What makes you think so?” I asked breathlessly.

“I don’t know,” she returned, “but he either thinks he knows you, or you remind him of some dead daughter, or sister—­or sweetheart, or—­oh, there might be any one of a dozen reasons why he would want to stare at you.  I think he’s harmless, though.  He probably won’t ever try to speak to you—­just take it out in following you around and looking at you.”

“Oh,” I gasped, “do you think he’s going to keep this up?”

“Looks like it,” Lillian returned, “but simply ignore him.  He has all the ear-marks of a gentleman.  I don’t think he will annoy you.  Now forget him and enjoy your ice, and then we’ll go and get that hat.”

Under Lillian’s guidance the selection of the hat proved an easy task.

Lillian bade me good-by at the door of the hat shop.

“You don’t need me any longer, do you?” she asked, “now that this hat question is settled?”

“No, no, Lillian,” I returned, “and I am awfully grateful to you for giving me so much of your time.”

“’Til Wednesday, then,” Lillian said, “good-by.”

I had quite a long list in my purse of small purchases to be made.  At last even the smallest item on my list was attended to, and, wearied as only shopping can tire a woman, I went over to the railroad station.  In my hurry of departure in the morning I had forgotten my mileage ticket, so that I had to go to the ticket office to purchase a ticket to Marvin.

I had forgotten all about the man who had annoyed me in the reception room of the Sydenham, and the little English tea room, so, when I turned from buying my ticket to find him standing near enough to me to have heard the name of Marvin, I was startled and terrified.

He did not once glance toward me, however, but strolled away quickly, as if in finding out the name of my home town he had learned all he wished.

I was thoroughly upset as I hurried to my train, and all through my hour’s journey home to Marvin the thought of the man troubled me.  What was the secret of his persistent espionage?  The coincidences of the day had been too numerous for me to doubt that the man was following me around with the intention of learning my identity.