The first page of his paper was fairly alive with fresh and important dispatches, chiefly foreign.  At length, after allowing himself to become really interested in a Paris dispatch of some international consequence, he turned his eyes again to the mirror.  She was leaning slightly forward, holding the open book in her lap, but reading, with straining eyes, an article in the paper he held.

He calmly turned to the next page and looked leisurely over it.  Another glance, quickly taken, showed to him a disappointed frown on the pretty face and a reluctant resumption of novel reading.  A few moments later he turned back to the first page, holding the paper in such a position that she could not see, and, full of curiosity, read every line of the foreign news, wondering what had interested her.

Under ordinary circumstances Lorry would have offered her the paper, and thought nothing more of it.  With her, however, there was an air that made him hesitate.  He felt strangely awkward and inexperienced beside her; precedents did not seem to count.  He arose, tossed the paper over the back of the chair as if casting it aside forever, and strolled to the opposite window and looked out for a few moments, jingling his coins carelessly.  The jingle of the pieces suggested something else to him.  His paper still hung invitingly, upside down, as he had left it, on the chair, and the lady was poring over her novel.  As he passed her he drew his right hand from his pocket and a piece of money dropped to the floor at her feet.  Then began an embarrassed search for the coin—­in the wrong direction, of course.  He knew precisely where it had rolled, but purposely looked under the seats on the other side of the car.  She drew her skirts aside and assisted in the search.  Four different times he saw the little piece of money, but did not pick it up.  Finally, laughing awkwardly, he began to search on her side of the car.  Whereupon she rose and gave him more room.  She became interested in the search and bent over to scan the dark corners with eager eyes.  Their heads were very close together more than once.  At last she uttered an exclamation, and her hand went to the floor in triumph.  They arose together, flushed and smiling.  She had the coin in her hand.

“I have it,” she said, gaily, a delicious foreign tinge to the words.

“I thank you—­” he began, holding out his hand as if in a dream of ecstacy, but her eyes had fallen momentarily on the object of their search.

“Oh!” she exclaimed, the prettiest surprise in the world coming into her face.  It was a coin from her faraway homeland, and she was betrayed into the involuntary exclamation.  Instantly, however, she regained her composure and dropped the piece into his outstretched hand, a proud flush mounting to her cheek, a look of cold reserve to her eyes.  He had, hoped she would offer some comment on what she must have considered a strange coincidence, but he was disappointed.  He wondered if she even heard him say: