Could not a lover of science present a compliment without it always seeming to be as unusual as plucking a damask rose from a cabinet of fossils?
Mustering my philosophy, I smiled back at her.

Again I noted that broad, classic brow, with the little tendrils of shining bronze caressing it, the tilted, delicate, nut-brown brows that gave a curious touch of innocent _diablerie_ to the lovely face--flowerlike, pure, high-bred, a touch of roguishness, subtly alluring, sparkling over the maiden Madonnaness that lay ever like a delicate, luminous suggestion beneath it; the long, black, curling lashes--the tender, rounded, bare left breast-- "I have always liked you," she murmured naively, "since first I saw you in that place where the Shining One goes forth into your world.
And I am glad you like my medicine as well as that you carry in the black box that you left behind," she added swiftly.
"How know you of that, Lakla ?" I gasped.
"Oft and oft I came to him there, and to you, while you lay sleeping.
How call you _him_ ?" She paused.
"Larry!" I said.
"Larry!" she repeated it excellently.

"And you ?" "Goodwin," said Rador.
I bowed quite as though I were being introduced to some charming young lady met in that old life now seemingly aeons removed.
"Yes--Goodwin." she said.

"Oft and oft I came.

Sometimes I thought you saw me.