'Wait a minute!' suddenly the man opposite her exclaimed. 'By the way! Excuse me! I've got it!' And he tossed away the lighted match, half-way to his mouth, and laid down the unlighted cigarette on the piazza railing. 'It's a window!'
'What's a window?'
'There's a window in a church in Boston,' he went on, still looking at her intently, still groping his way. 'A stained-glass window, that you make me think of a little. I thought at first I'd met you somewhere, but I guess it's just a resemblance. It's a memorial window to a young girl. She's in a church, looking up—at least I think she's in the church, though By the way,' abruptly he broke off. 'Perhaps you were in the church. Pardon me, but did you ever live in Wallbridge, Massachusetts?'
'A thousand years ago.'
The man leaned forward in his chair eagerly.
'Your first name couldn't be Sheilah, could it?'
'Who are you?' Sheilah exclaimed.
'Your name used to be Sheilah Miller,' he announced triumphantly.
Sheilah stared, open-eyed and dazed. 'I suppose I ought to know you,' she floundered, 'but I didn't even listen when Dr. Baird introduced you. I don't even know your name.'
