"What!" the daughter cried. "Haven't you any eyes? He's the most magnificent-looking human creature I've ever seen!"
"What an idea! Why, he's a walking wreck, child—not that one doesn't feel awfully sorry for him. He just manages to get along with two canes, and he's thin as a shadow. Our valet de chambre says there's something the matter with his spine."
"Yes, there is." The colour had heightened in Claire's cheeks, and her eyes shone. "Do you know why? That's from a hand grenade in Flanders. I asked Mr. Rennie and he told me."
Mrs. Ambler nodded sympathetically. "Of course that does help to make him look magnificent, as you say; especially since anyone can see he's probably suffered terribly—and still does, I'm afraid. Yet he seems very much alive—that is, his head does. He has a kind of haggard eagerness very appealing; it's as if he knew he couldn't get much out of life, but did hope to get that little. I didn't realize you were interested in him; it's rather surprising in a girl of your age, especially with such a remarkable young man as Don Arturo hovering about."
"What's my age got to do with it, Mother? Arturo's wonderful, but I've seen others like him."
