ain? Could he _know_?
She was unable to articulate, and he went on.

"You must pardon me if that was too bold a thing to say--you are the
last person to whom I would give offence! But you have seemed to me
the very spirit of the fresh robust North. I have fancied I could see
the salt wind blowing about you. All the English creoles of this
island are like porcelain. The fine ladies that come to Bath House
take too much care of their complexions, doubtless of their pretty
feet--they all want to be beauties rather than women. That is the
reason you seem something of a goddess by contrast, and vastly
refreshing to a West Indian."

Anne drew a long breath as he blundered through his explanation.
She was relieved, but at the same time femininely conscious of
disappointment. Nor was there sentiment in his low monotonous voice.
He paid but the homage of weary man to vital youth.

"I am unfashionably healthy," she said, hoping that her eyes danced
with laughter at the idea of being likened to a goddess. She continued
with great vivacity, "How relieved I am that you have never noticed
the hang of my morning skirts. Ah, that is because you are a poet. But
I wish I could give you one-tenth of the pleasure, by my suggestion of
the North, that I derive from your wonderful tropics. Don't fancy that
I get up at five merely for the pleasure of exercise. My chief object
is to enjoy your island for a bit while all the rest of the world is
asleep. These last sixteen days have been the happiest of my life."
She brought out the last words somewhat defiantly, but she met his
gaze, still smiling.

"I am not surprised to learn that you are a poet. What else could be
expected--once I learned to pay compliments gracefully, but if I have
forgotten the art, I have not lost my power to admire and appreciate
beauty in any form. It has given me the greatest pleasure I have
known for years to watch you, and I thank you for coming to Nevis."

Anne by this time was accustomed to the high-flown compliments of
polite society, but she could not doubt the sincerity of this man, who
had no place in a world where idle flattery was the small coin of
talk. She blushed slightly and changed the subject, and as he talked,
less and less haltingly, of the traditions of Nevis, she watched his
eyes, fascinated. They were not the eyes of mere youth, any more than
of a man who had seen far too much of life. Neither, upon closer
inspection, were they the eyes of a s