That would be a pretty, a graceful speech—a little ornate, doubtless, but diplomatic in the extreme. Having been accorded permission to introduce himself, he would cease thereafter to be flowery. However, Webster realized that however graceful might be his speech and bearing, should he essay the great adventure in the morning, his appearance would render him ridiculous and presumptuous and perhaps shock and humiliate her; for in all things there is a limit, and John Stuart Webster's right eye constituted a deadline beyond which, as a gentleman, he dared not venture; so with a heavy heart he bowed to the inevitable. Brilliant and mysterious as a meteorite she had flashed once across his horizon and was gone.     

       In the privacy of his stateroom Webster had ham and eggs for breakfast. He was lighting his second cigar when the porter knocked and entered with an envelope.     

       “Lady in the observation-car asked me to deliver this to you, sah,”       he announced importantly.     

       It 'was a note, freshly written on the train stationery. Webster read:     

       The distressed lady desires to thank the gentleman in stateroom A for his chivalry of yesterday. She quite realizes that the gentleman's offer to relieve her of the annoyance to which she was being subjected was such a direct expression of his nature and code, that to have declined his aid would have been discourteous, despite her distress at the possible outcome. She is delighted to know that her confidence in the ability of her champion has been fully justified by a swift and sweeping victory, but profoundly sorry that in her service the gentleman in stateroom A was so unfortunate as to acquire a red eye with blue trimmings.     

       John Stuart Webster swore his mightiest oath, “By the twelve apostles, Simon Peter, Andrew, James, John, Philip, Bartholomew, Matthew, Thomas, James, Jude, and Simon, not omitting Judas Iscariot, the scaly scoundrel who betrayed his Lord and Master!” He searched through an old wallet until he discovered a fairly clean professional card, across the bottom of which he wrote, “Thank you. J. S.W.” and sent it to the no-longer-distressed lady.     

       “The most signal adventure of my life is now over,” he soliloquized and turned to his cigar. “For the sake of my self-respect, I had to let 

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