e knew if Ishmael did not how that whiteness was
attained--except for a slight pink flush below extravagantly calm eyes
of a clear pale grey; the modelling of the face was wide across brow and
cheekbones and across the jaw on the level of the too-small mouth; then
came a dimpled chin, short and childish, as was the tip-tilted nose. It
was the type of face which, in its broad modelling of planes and
petal-fineness of edges, suggests a pansy. The blondness of
her--ashen-dead fairness of hair and pale skin with those pellucid eyes
beneath dust-brown brows--all united in an effort of innocence that
surpassed itself and became the blandness of a doll. She was curiously
immobile, sat very quietly, and moved slowly, graceful in the way that
a heavily-built puma is graceful, because of the thoroughly sound
construction of her bones and muscles. Killigrew, as he watched her, was
vastly intrigued by what he phrased to himself as the "innocent sweet
corruption of her look." For with all that dollish look, perhaps because
of it, it was possible, so Killigrew thought, to imagine her being very
bad with the help of that protective mask. It was also compatible with
an Undine-like soullessness, a cold clearness of outlook, or a slightly
heavy if sweet stupidity. He thought it quite likely she might have all
the virtues except a naturally good complexion, but he wondered about
her, seeing her charm without feeling it.

The lamp was ready all too soon, and the lucky Carminow had the best
right to carry it upstairs for her. She shook hands with both his
friends as she said good-night, and Ishmael noticed how straightly she
looked from her equal height into his eyes as her hand lay in his. Then
the door swung to, but without closing, and in a moment there came the
low sound of her voice from the landing above.

"Mr. Carminow...." she was saying--and the words, excepting just now and
again, were audible to the two in the sitting-room--"I hope--I don't
know what your friends must think. Do tell them, will you, that I'm not
in the habit of running down to your room like that? Mr. Ruan looks so
good. I wouldn't like him to think--"

"No one thinks anything like that; they couldn't, I assure you. Do
believe me, Miss Grey. You won't sleep if you worry, you know. Promise
me to believe me. I'll say something to them if it'll make you any
happier."

"Will you? Then I'll promise too. I can take the lamp now. And--thank
you, Mr. Carminow."

Dow