he's not generally called pleasing, or--'

'Handsome?'

'I scarcely meant that. But since you have said it, is he
handsome?'

'Rather.'

'His tout ensemble is striking?'

'Yes--O no, no--I forgot: it is not. He is rather untidy in his
waistcoat, and neck-ties, and hair.'

'How vexing! . . . it must be to himself, poor thing.'

'He's a thorough bookworm--despises the pap-and-daisy school of
verse--knows Shakespeare to the very dregs of the foot-notes.
Indeed, he's a poet himself in a small way.'

'How delicious!' she said. 'I have never known a poet.'

'And you don't know him,' said Owen dryly.

She reddened. 'Of course I don't. I know that.'

'Have you received any answer to your advertisement?' he inquired.

'Ah--no!' she said, and the forgotten disappointment which had
showed itself in her face at different times during the day, became