Bert and Mary addressed each other by their given names, but to
Saxon Bert was "Mr. Wanhope," though he called her by her first
name. The only introduction was of Saxon and Billy Roberts. Mary
carried it off with a flurry of nervous carelessness.

"Mr. Robert--Miss Brown. She's my best friend. Her first name's
Saxon. Ain't it a scream of a name?"

"Sounds good to me," Billy retorted, hat off and hand extended.
"Pleased to meet you, Miss Brown."

As their hands clasped and she felt the teamster callouses on his
palm, her quick eyes saw a score of things. About all that he saw
was her eyes, and then it was with a vague impression that they
were blue. Not till later in the day did he realize that they
were gray. She, on the contrary, saw his eyes as they really
were--deep blue, wide, and handsome in a sullen-boyish way. She
saw that they were straight-looking, and she liked them, as she
had liked the glimpse she had caught of his hand, and as she
liked the contact of his hand itself. Then, too, but not sharply,
she had perceived the short, square-set nose, the rosiness of
cheek, and the firm, short upper lip, ere delight centered her
flash of gaze on the well-modeled, large clean mouth where red
lips smiled clear of the white, enviable teeth. A BOY, A GREAT
BIG MAN-BOY, was her thought; and, as they smiled at each other
and their hands slipped apart, she was startled by a glimpse of
his hair--short and crisp and sandy, hinting almost of palest
gold save that it was too flaxen to hint of gold at all.