intonation; he saw her bright, beautiful face, its changing lights,
its infinite subtleties of expression. The arch of her eyebrows and
the lovely hazel eyes beneath; the small and exquisitely shaped
mouth; the little chin, so delicately round and firm; all were
engraved on his memory, once and for ever.

He sat down and was lost in a dream. His arms hung idly; all his
muscles were relaxed. His eyes dwelt on a point of the carpet which
he did not see.

Then, with a sudden start of activity, he went to the looking-glass
and surveyed himself. His tie was the worse for wear. He exchanged
it for another. He brushed his hair violently, and smoothed his
moustache. Never had he felt such dissatisfaction with his
appearance. Never had it struck him so disagreeably before that he
was hard-featured, sallow, anything but a handsome man. Yet, he had
good teeth, very white and regular; that was something, perhaps.
Observing them, he grinned at himself grotesquely--and at once was
so disgusted that he turned with a shudder away.

Ordinarily, he would have awaited the summons of the bell for tea.
But, after making himself ready, he gazed from the window and saw
Miss Derwent walking alone in the garden; he hastened down.

She gave him a look of intelligence, but took his arrival as a
matter of course, and spoke to him about a flowering shrub which
pleased her. Otway's heart sank. What had he expected? He neither
knew nor asked himself; he stood beside her, seeing nothing, hearing
only a voice and wishing it would speak on for ever. He was no
longer a reflecting, reasoning young man, with a tolerably firm will