Outside the post-office stood a nohatted, blond young man in gray flannels, who was elaborately affixing a stamp to a letter. I forget. “You are very kind,” she said hesitatingly, “but I don’t remember—I don’t think that I know you, do I?” “I am afraid that you do not,” he admitted, with a smile which he meant to be encouraging. But I wanted to find out more, partly so I could share it with him. ’ She was about to develop this theme, when Jack’s gaze became fixed, and his expression changed. "My sight is failing me.
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