Not even her shabby shoes could conceal the perfect shape of her
feet and ankles. Once more he remembered his first simile, his
first thought of her. She seemed, indeed, like some dainty
statuette, uncouthly clad, who had strayed from a world of her
own upon rough days and found herself ill-equipped indeed for the
struggle. His heart grew hot with anger against Morrison as he
stood and watched her. Supposing she had been different! It
would have been his fault, leaving her alone to battle her way
through the most difficult of all lives. Brute!

He had muttered the word half aloud and she suddenly opened her
eyes. At first she seemed bewildered. Then she smiled and sat up.

"I have been asleep!" she exclaimed.

"A most unnecessary statement," he answered, smiling. "I have
been standing looking at you for five minutes at least."

"How fortunate that I gave you the key!" she declared. "I don't
suppose I should ever have heard you. Now please stand there in
the light and let me look at you."

"Why?"

"I want to look at a man who has had supper with Mademoiselle
Idiale."

He shrugged his shoulders.

"Am I supposed to be a wanderer out of Paradise, then?"