impelling me to a half-turn to the left.

I had not noticed the girl before. She occupied a low, deep,
wickerwork arm-chair, and I saw her in exact profile like a figure
in a tapestry, and as motionless. Jacobus released my arm.

"This is Alice," he announced tranquilly; and his subdued manner of
speaking made it sound so much like a confidential communication
that I fancied myself nodding understandingly and whispering: "I
see, I see." . . . Of course, I did nothing of the kind. Neither
of us did anything; we stood side by side looking down at the girl.
For quite a time she did not stir, staring straight before her as
if watching the vision of some pageant passing through the garden
in the deep, rich glow of light and the splendour of flowers.

Then, coming to the end of her reverie, she looked round and up.
If I had not at first noticed her, I am certain that she too had
been unaware of my presence till she actually perceived me by her
father's side. The quickened upward movement of the heavy eyelids,
the widening of the languid glance, passing into a fixed stare, put
that beyond doubt.

Under her amazement there was a hint of fear, and then came a flash
as of anger. Jacobus, after uttering my name fairly loud, said:
"Make yourself at home, Captain--I won't be gone long," and went
away rapidly. Before I had time to make a bow I was left alone
with the girl--who, I remembered suddenly, had not been seen by any
man or woman of that town since she had found it necessary to put
up her hair. It looked as though it had not been touched again
since that distant time of first putting up; it was a mass of