in her face at the thought of Nina—and she became aware suddenly that she had not been listening to the Major, and that he was talking in a new tone.
He was talking about Basil's mother. He seemed to-day to be living altogether in the past He seemed now to be living over again vividly the love of his youth. Physical weakness had made him garrulous and he talked as though he were talking to himself. He murmured and crooned over old scenes of his wooing; her looks and words; her daring, her cleverness, her beauty.
"I've never seen a woman like her, my dear," he said. "I've lived thirty years in the world since she died, and I've never seen a woman fit to tie her shoes. I used to tie 'em, by Jove, and put 'em on for her. She'd never put on her own shoes and stockings in her life before she married me. She might have had many a more brilliant match than I was, but she took me, a poor young soldier. Good God, what was I, to deserve such a creature? The day she promised herself to me, it seemed to me as if a goddess had stooped down and kissed me. And she was proud! … You can't imagine how beautiful she was … when she took down her hair it covered her to her knees in a glory like copper and gold …"
Something like a sob broke the old man's voice. "My happiness was brief," he whispered, and
