"But surely you must have noticed that deep, deep dimple in his chin?"
she questioned innocently. Keith Cameron, I may say, did not have a
dimple in his chin at all; there was, however, a deep crease in it.

"I did not." Sir Redmond rubbed his own chin, which was so far from
dimpling that is was rounded like half an apricot.

"Dear me! And you sat opposite to him at dinner yesterday, too! I
suppose, then, you did not observe that his teeth are the whitest,
evenest."

"They make them cheaply over here, I'm told," he retorted, setting his
heel emphatically down and annihilating a red and black caterpillar.

"Now, why did you do that? I must say you English are rather brutal?"

"I can't abide worms."

"Well, neither can I. And I think it would be foolish to quarrel about a
man's good looks," Beatrice said, with surprising sweetness.

Sir Redmond hunched his shoulders and retreated to the comfort of his
pipe. "A bally lot of good looks!" he sneered. "A woman is never
convinced, though."

"I am." Beatrice sat down upon a rock and rested her elbows on her knees
and her chin in her hands--and an adorable picture she made, I assure
you. "I'm thoroughly convinced of several things. One is Mr. Cameron's
good looks; another is that you're cross."