And then, greatly to his embarrassment in the next instant, his
eyes went to her feet. Again O'Connor was right--tiny feet, high-
heeled pumps, ravishingly turned ankles showing under a skirt of
some fluffy brown stuff or other--

Correcting himself, his face flushed red. The faintest tremble of
a smile was on the girl's lips. She looked down, and for the first
time he saw what O'Connor had seen, the sunlight kindling
slumberous fires in her hair.

Kent tried to say something, but before he succeeded she had taken
possession of the chair near his bedside.

"I have been waiting a long time to see you," she said. "You are
James Kent, aren't you?"

"Yes, I'm Jim Kent. I'm sorry Dr. Cardigan kept you waiting. If I
had known--"

He was getting a grip on himself again, and smiled at her. He
noticed the amazing length of her dark lashes, but the violet eyes
behind them did not smile back at him. The tranquillity of their
gaze was disconcerting. It was as if she had not quite made up her
mind about him yet and was still trying to classify him in the
museum of things she had known.

"He should have awakened me," Kent went on, trying to keep himself
from slipping once more. "It isn't polite to keep a young lady
waiting two hours!"