My mind is pigeon-holed like my office.

Don't tell me." He held up his forefinger and fixed her with his eye.
"It's Middlemist," he cried triumphantly, "and you've an Oriental kind of Christian name--Zora! Am I right ?" "Perfectly," she laughed, the uncanniness of his memory mitigating the unconventionality of his demeanor.
"Now we all know one another," he said, swinging a chair round and sitting unasked at the table.

"You're both very sunburnt and the water here is hard and will make the skin peel.

You had better use some of the cure.

I use it myself every day--see the results." He passed his hand over his smooth, clean-shaven face, which indeed was as rosy as a baby's.