curiosity. They had not acquired their free, springy stride in the
cities; these were adventurers who had met with strange experiences in
the frozen North and the lonely West. Some of them had hard faces and
a predatory air, but that added to their interest. Margaret Keith
liked to watch them all, and speculate about their mode of life; that
pleasure could still be enjoyed, though, as she sometimes told herself
with humorous resignation, she could no longer take a very active part
in things.

Presently, however, something that appealed to her in a more direct and
personal way occurred, for a man came down the steps of the Windsor and
crossed the well-lighted street with a very pretty English girl. He
carried himself well, and had the look of a soldier; his figure was
finely proportioned; but his handsome face suggested sensibility rather
than decision of character, and his eyes were dreamy. His companion,
so far as Mrs. Keith could judge by her smiling glance as she laid her
hand upon his arm when they left the sidewalk, was proud of him, and
much in love with him.

"Whom are you looking at so hard?" Mrs. Ashborne inquired.

"Bertram Challoner and his bride," said Mrs. Keith. "They're coming
toward us yonder."

Then a curious thing happened, for a man who was crossing the street
seemed to see the Challoners and, turning suddenly, stepped back behind
a passing cab. They had their backs to him when he went on, but he
looked around, as if to make sure he had not been observed, before he
entered the hotel.