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 had he seen her before? 'The others are just plain ordinary hotel guests.' Where had he been where he could see her? 'The inmates are much nicer.' Sitting in a shaft of sunlight like that, looking up, smiling the way she had a moment before. 'The guests are horribly envious,' he went on. There had been sunmotes in the other shaft of sunlight, floating about her hair. 'There are usually several celebrities among the inmates.' Glorious hair, as he recalled it. Gold. Thousands of little glistening spirals escaping. 'I hope you're not a celebrity.'

'I'm not!' she assured him quickly.

But he didn't remember that glint of silver in her hair. 'Well, I'm glad of that.' And how very tired she looked to-day! 'I don't feel comfortable with lady celebrities.' Oh, she probably was just like somebody. But whom? Bother his memory, anyway. Reaching into an inside pocket he drew out a cigarette case—an old, silver, engraved affair, worn smooth like an old ten-cent piece. 'Do you mind?'

Sheilah shook her head. 'No. Do.'

'Will ''you? ' '' and he offered her the open case. If they both smoked he could study her more closely, gaze without apparent impoliteness.

But again Sheilah shook her head. 'No, thanks,' she said. But it was rather nice being back among the little commonplace elegancies. She looked up and smiled again into the shaft of sunlight.