quickened breath to tell of the effort! Her face?--he tried to
recall her face but found it provokingly elusive. It was a young
face, but not youthful. The distinction seemed strained and yet it
was a real distinction. The eyes were grey, he thought. The eyebrows
very fine, dark and slanted slightly, as if left that way by some
unanswered question. The nose was straight, delightful in profile.
The mouth too firm for a face so young, the chin too square--
perhaps. But even as he catalogued the features the face escaped
him. He had a changing impression, only, of a graceful contour, warm
and white, dark careless eyes, and hair--quantities of hair lying
close and smooth in undulated waves--its color like nothing so much
as the brown of a crisping autumn leaf. He remembered, though, that
she was poorly dressed--and utterly unconscious, or careless, of
being so. And she had been amused, undoubtedly amused, at his
annoyance. A most unfeminine girl! And that at least was fortunate--
for he was very, very weary of everything feminine!




CHAPTER III

Yawningly, the professor reached for his watch.

It had run down.

"Evidently they do not wake guests for breakfast," he mused.
"Perhaps," with rising dismay, "there isn't any breakfast to wake
them for!"