n me as much as these fond tears
might make you suspect. I shall feel that way when Clytie brings my lunch,
too." He smiled and drew her hand into both his own as she sat beside him.

"How plump and warm your hand is--all full of little whispering pulses. My
hands are cold and drowsy and bony, and _so_ uninterested! Doesn't fever
bring forward a man's bones in the most shameless way?"

"Oh, Bernal--but you'll soon have them decently hidden again--indeed,
you're looking--quite--quite plump." She smiled encouragingly. A sudden
new look in his eyes made her own face serious again.

"Why, Nance, you're rather lovely when you smile!"

She smiled.

"Only then?"

He studied her, while she pretended to be grave.

He became as one apart, giving her a long look of unbiassed appraisal.

"Well--you know--now you have some little odds and ends of features--not
bad--no, not even half bad, for that matter. I can see thousands of miles
into your eyes--there's a fire smouldering away back in there--it's all
smoky and mysterious after you go the first few thousand miles--but, I
don't know--I believe the smile is _needed_, Nance. Poor child, I tell you
this as a friend, for your own good--it seems to make a fine big
perfection out of a lot of little imperfections that are only fairly
satisfactory."

She smiled again, brushing an escaped lock of hair to its home.

"Really, Nance, no one could guess that mouth till it melts."

"I see--now I shall be going about with an endless, sickening grin. It
will come to that--doubtless I shall be murdered for it--people that do
grin that way always make _me_ feel like murder."

"And they could never guess your eyes until the little smile runs up to
light their chandeliers."

"Dear me!--Like a janitor!"

"--or the chin, until the little smile does curly things all around
it--"

"There, now--calm yourself--the doctor will be here presently--and you
know, you're among friends--"

"--or the face itself until those little pink ripples get to chasing each
other up to hide in your hair, as they are now. You know you're blushing,
Nance, so stop it. Remember, it's when you smile; remember, also, that
smiles are born, not made. It's a long time since I've seen you, Nance."

"Two years--we didn't come here last summer, you know."

"But you've aged--you're twice the woman you were--so, on the whole, I'm
not in the least disappointed in you."

"Your sickness seems to have left you--well--in