“Do you know,” she confessed, “I never thought of that?” He looked at her as though doubting even now whether she could possibly be in earnest. All at once her heart began to patter queerly. There were dark rims under her eyes, soft now with unshed tears. Her eyes were soft and blue, arched over by dark brows, and fringed by long silken lashes. He saluted awkwardly. “They seem to come to you as naturally as disappointment—to other people. ‘Who is that man? What has he to do with you? No, don’t tell me. “There,” he said, “you don’t treat me fairly, Miss Stanley. Might we ask you if you have ever seen him, if you knew him at all before this evening?” She stood up suddenly, and turning her back to them, looked steadily out of the window.
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