A picture shaped itself in her mind of a blustering March day, and of a girl, a man, and an errand-boy, careering wildly in the roadway of a London street, while some stray sheets of music went whirling hither and thither in the wind.

It had all happened a year ago, on that critical day when Baroni had consented to accept her as his pupil, but the recollection of it, and the odd, snubbed feeling she had experienced in regard to the man with the blue eyes, was as clear in her mind as though it had occurred only yesterday.
"I believe we have met before, haven't we ?" she said.
The look of gay good-humour vanished suddenly from his face and an expression of blank inquiry took its place.
"I think not," he replied.
"Oh, but I'm sure of it.

Don't you remember"-- brightly--"about a year ago.

I was carrying some music, and it all blew away up the street and you helped me to collect it again ?" He shook his head.
"I think you must be mistaken," he answered regretfully.
"No, no," she persisted, but beginning to experience some slight embarrassment.

(It is embarrassing to find you have betrayed a keen and vivid recollection of a man who has apparently forgotten that he ever set eyes on you!) "Oh, you must remember--it was in Grellingham Place, and the greengrocer's boy helped as well." She broke off, reading the polite negation in his face.
"You must be confusing me with some one else.