A lamp was on the table—and three places were set. Carron's pulse of anticipation rose; but no third person came to occupy that place, no mention. Of such a one was made, and the meal was not kept waiting. Carron and Mrs. Rader were opposite each other. She had discarded her white head covering, and showed plentiful brown hair, streaked with gray, drawn back smoothly from her small, irregular-featured face. In spite of fine multiplying lines and weathered skin, it still kept a vague hint of the charm of her youth, though just wherein that charm had consisted was difficult to say. Carron had never seen a face so limited to one expression—an impersonal, alert, attentive, practical expression—and he had never seen such uncommunicative eyes. For the sake of enlivening them a little he began a story of some adventures of his two days before on the Sacramento boat. She listened attentively with a faint propitiatory smile; but he thought she was more struck by the fact that he talked to her than by what he said. Her struggle to do her part in the conversation was touching. Her capacity, as he had seen, was prompt enough in practical matters. No doubt she could deal successfully with the more important problems of a hotel, from people trying to leave without paying to people dropping in without baggage. But to
26
