of impassivity, quite off her guard, with that touch of wistfulness which comes to humanity when alone with its own thoughts. He could detect a look of vague trouble about the idly staring eyes, a sense of want about the slightly parted lips, a listlessness about the droop of the forward-bent body hooded by its cascade of dull chestnut.
But Kestner gave little thought to this. For he had made the further discovery that Morello himself stood in that room, within six feet of the door. And the man peering through this door realised why Morello's advent had as yet remained undiscovered by the girl in front of the mirror. A few steps inside the door stood a panel-screen of rose and gold, and behind this screen Morello still crouched.
There seemed something intent and animal-like in his pose, and at the same time something childlike and ludicrous. Kestner could not analyse this mixed impression. He had scarcely time to make note of it, for at that moment he heard a sudden gasp from the woman in front of the mirror, and he knew she must have discovered she was being watched.
