face--cheeks, chin and temples--chiselled and fined away into an almost
classical perfection. The man's aspect indeed was Greek, and ought only
to have expressed the Greek blitheness, the Greek joy in life. But, in
truth, it was a very modern and complex soul that breathed from both
face and form.

Constance had addressed him as "Mr. Sorell." He turned to walk with her
to her door, talking eagerly. He was asking her about various friends in
whose company they had last met--apparently at Rome; and he made various
references to "your mother," which Constance accepted gently, as though
they pleased her.

They paused at the Hoopers' door.

"But when can I see you?" he asked. "Has Mrs. Hooper a day at home? Will
you come to lunch with me soon? I should like to show you my rooms. I
have some of those nice things we bought at Syracuse--your father and
I--do you remember? And I have a jolly look out over the garden. When
will you come?"

"When you like. But chaperons seem to be necessary!"

"Oh, I can provide one--any number! Some of the wives of our married
fellows are great friends of mine. I should like you to know them. But
wouldn't Mrs. Hooper bring you?"

"Will you write to her?"

He looked a little confused.