At the Close of the Second Day
He repeated the inward comment as he watched her eat her soup as deliberately and daintily as if she had risen from the luncheon table but a few hours before. She looked up when the waiter removed the plates, and the ready laughter bubbled to her eyes and looked out at him in a quizzical little gleam. She was quite herself again, and she suddenly determined that he should have as pleasant an hour as it was in her power to give him. He was doing a corporal work of mercy—feeding the hungry. She would do a spiritual work of mercy—comfort the lonely. His eyes were bent on the bill of fare and he was giving his order to the waiter with the seriousness which the importance of the occasion demanded. She took advantage of the opportunity to study his face. It was a handsome face—beautiful, she decided, because there was soul in it. His complexion, though dark, was very clear, and the gray eyes, beneath their long lashes, had an almost boyish frankness. They looked up at her as the waiter departed, and his white teeth flashed in a quick response to the faint smile he saw on her lips.
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