"Well, now that I know it," said Dennis after a moment, "I think I'm glad she's here. It's a fact the more to reckon with."
"You mean to see her then?"
He sat with his eyes fixed, weighing it well. "You must tell me two or three things first. Then I'll choose—I'll decide."
She waited for him to mention his requirements, turning to her teapot, which had been drawing, so that she could meanwhile hand him a cup. But for some minutes, taking it and stirring it, he only gazed and mused, as if his curiosities were so numerous that he scarcely knew which to pick out. Mrs. Beever at last, with a woman's sense for this, met him exactly at the right point. "I must tell you frankly that if four years ago she was a girl most people admired———"
He caught straight on. "She's still more wonderful now?"
Mrs. Beever distinguished. "I don't know about 'wonderful,' but she wears really well. She carries the years almost as you do, and her head better than any young woman I've ever seen. Life is somehow becoming to her. Every one's immensely
