eyes that generally smiled. A glove that looked significantly slack
covered his left hand, which had been maimed by a circular saw when he
worked in his mill.

Carmen was a blonde, but with none of the softness that often
characterizes this type of beauty. Her features were sharply cut, her
well-proportioned figure was firmly lined, and the lack of color in her
face was made up for by the keen sparkle in her eyes. As a rule, Carmen
Austin's wishes were carried out. She knew how to command, and rival
beauties who now and then ventured to oppose her soon found that her
power was unshakable.

"You haven't thought it worth while to ask for a dance yet," she
remarked, and Foster could not tell if she was offended or not.

"No," he replied, smiling, "I was afraid of getting a disappointment,
since I didn't know your plans, but only made a few engagements in case
you sent for me. One finds it best to wait your orders."

Carmen studied him thoughtfully. "You generally take the proper line;
sometimes I think you're cleverer than you look. Anyway, one isn't
forced to explain things to you. Explaining what one wants is always
annoying."

"Exactly. My business is to guess what you would like and carry it out
as far as I can. When I'm right this saves you some trouble and gives me
keen satisfaction. It makes me think I am intelligent."

"Our boys are a pretty good sample, but they don't talk like that. I
suppose you learned it in the Old Country. You know, you're very