cate
brilliance of color, while the hat-brim threw a band of shadow on
forehead and eyes. The man's impression was swift and definite. He
had been waiting to see, and was prepared. The face, he decided, was
not beautiful by the gauge of set standards. It was, however,
beautiful in the better sense of its individuality; in the delicacy of
the small, yet resolute, chin and the expressive depth of the eyes.
Just now, they were shaded into dark pools of blue, but he knew they
could brighten into limpid violet.

She straightened up as she turned and met his stare with a steadiness
that should have disconcerted it, yet he found himself still studying
her with the detached, though utterly engrossed, interest of the
critic. She did not start or turn hurriedly away. Somehow, he caught
the realization that flight had no part in her system of things.

The human tide began flowing back toward the betting shed, and left
them alone in a cleared space by the palings. Then, the man saw a
quick anger sweep into the girl's face and deepen the color of her
cheeks. Her chin went up a trifle, and her lips tightened.

He found himself all at once in deep confusion. He wanted to tell her
that he had not realized the actuality of his staring impertinence,
until she had, with a flush of unuttered wrath and embarrassment,
revealed the depth of his felony ... for he could no longer regard it
as a misdemeanor.

There was a note of contempt in her eyes that stung him, and presently
he found himself stammering an excuse.

"I beg your pardon--I didn't realize it," he began lamely. Then he
added as though to explain it all with the frank outspokenness of a
school-boy: "I was wishing that I could paint you--I couldn't help
gazing."

For a few moments as she stood rigidly and indignantly silent, he had
opportunity to reflect on the inadequacy of his explanation. At last,
she spoke with the fine disdain of affronted royalty.

"Are you quite through looking at me? May I go now?"

He was contrite.

"I don't know that I could explain--but it wasn't meant to be--to
be----" He broke off, floundering.

"It's a little strange," she commented quietly as though talking to
herself, "because you _look_ like a gentleman."

The man flushed.

"You are very kind and flattering," he said, his face instantly
hardening. "I sha'n't tax you with explanation. I don't suppose any
woman could be induced to understand that a man may look at her--even
stare at h