her long ringless hands had lain in her lap as she talked. She was tall, but not too tall. He liked a woman to have height. He liked the paleness of her oval face, and the wide mouth with its satisfactory curves. Her dark brown eyes had a sparkle far at the back of them, like . . . like the reflection of a single star in a deep pool. . . .
He had been damned dull, as he always was.
"If she were only sitting there again," he thought, "I would say everything differently. I would say things that she might remember afterwards. I'm not such a dull fellow as all that."
Was he not? At least no woman would ever find out that he was not. He thought of his poverty and his book, that, in all probability, he alone believed in. He realized that his head had begun to ache again, and he closed his eyes.
Major Stroud went with Noel and Judy as far as the street door.
"He'll be all right," he assured them, indicating Chip upstairs. "Nothing to worry about now. Rest's doin' him good. Awfully good of you to come, Miss Pendleton, cheer him up. Terrible fellow for bein' alone, Chip is. Neglects his friends."
"Hasn't he any relations?" Noel asked.
