of
fineness. Her hands, as he had already noticed, were long, the fingers
tapering; her wrists were finely moulded, but slender, and running
without abrupt swelling of muscles into the long lines of her forearm;
her figure was rounded, but built on the curves of slenderness; her
piled, glossy hair was so fine that though it was full of wonderful
soft shadows denied coarser tresses, its mass hardly did justice to
its abundance. Her face, again, was long and oval, with a peculiar
transparence to the skin and a peculiar faint, healthy circulation
of the blood well below the surface, which relieved her complexion of
pallor, but did not give her a colour. The lips, on the contrary, were
satin red, and Orde was mildly surprised, after his recent talk, to find
them sensitively moulded, and with a quaint, child-like quirk at the
corners. Her eyes were rather contemplative, and so black as to resemble
spots.

In spite of her half-scornful references to "bread-throwing," she joined
with evident pleasure in the badinage and more practical fun which
struck the note of the supper. Only Orde thought to discern even in her
more boisterous movements a graceful, courteous restraint, to catch in
the bend of her head a dainty concession to the joy of the moment,
to hear in the tones of her laughter a reservation of herself, which
nevertheless was not at all a reservation, against the others.

After the meal was finished, each had his candle to blow out, and then
all returned to the parlour, leaving the debris for the later attention
of the "hired help."

Orde with determination made his way to Miss Bishop's side. She smiled
at him.

"You see, I am a hypocrite as well as a mean little snip," said she. "I
threw a little bread myself."

"Threw bread?" repeated Orde. "I didn't see you."

"The moon is made of green cheese," she mocked him, "and there are
countries where men's heads do grow beneath their shoulders." She moved
gracefully away toward Jane Hubbard. "Do you Western 'business men'
never deal in figures of speech as well as figures of the other sort?"
she wafted back to him over her shoulder.

"I was very stupid," acknowledged Orde, following her.

She stopped and faced him in the middle of the room, smiling
quizzically.

"Well?" she challenged.

"Well, what?" asked Orde, puzzled.

"I thought perhaps you wanted to ask me something."

"Why?"

"Your following me," she explained, the corners of her mouth smiling. "I
h