knees crossed, one long, slim foot nervously swinging above its shadow
on the floor.

In spite of his youth there was in his manner, if not in his voice,
something tinged with fatigue. She thought of what Kathleen had said
about him; looked up, instinctively questioning him with curious,
uncomprehending eyes; then her gaze wandered, became lost in smiling
retrospection as she thought of Dysart, peevish; and she frankly
regretted him and his dance.

Young Mallett stirred, passed a rather bony hand over his shaven upper
lip, and said abruptly: "I never expected you'd grow up like this.
You've turned into a different kind of girl. Once you were chubby of
cheek and limb. Do you remember how you used to fight?"

"Did I?"

"Certainly. You hit me twice in the eye because I lost my temper
sparring with Scott. Your hands were small but heavy in those days.... I
imagine they're heavier now."

She laughed, clasped both pretty hands over her knee, and tilted back
against the palm, regarding him from dark, velvety eyes.

"You were a curiously fascinating child," he said. "I remember how fast
you could run, and how your hair flew--it was thick and dark, with
rather sunny high lights; and you were always running--always on the
go.... You were a remarkably just girl; that I remember. You were
absolutely fair to everybody."