THE KEY TO YESTERDAY



  Of the face itself, the eyes were the com-
manding features. They were gray eyes, set
under level brows; keenly observant by token
of their clear light, yet tinged by a half-wistful
softness that dwells hauntingly in the eyes of
dreamers.
  Just now, the eyes saw not only the determi-
nation of a four-furlong dash for two-year-
olds, but also, across the fresh turf of the in-
field, the radiant magic of May, under skies
washed brilliant by April's rains.
  Then, as the colts came abreast and passed
in a muffled roar of drumming hoofs, his eyes
suddenly abandoned the race at the exact mo-
ment of its climax: as hundreds of heads
craned toward the judges' stand, his own gaze
became a stare focused on a point near his
elbow.
  He stared because he had seen, as it seemed
to him, a miracle, and the miracle was a girl.
It was, at all events, nothing short of miracu-
lous that such a girl should be discovered stand-
ing, apparently unaccompanied, down in this
bricked area, a few yards from the paddock
and the stools of the bookmakers.
                      3