the refinement and thoughtfulness of his clean-shaven
face, the white teeth, and the careful trimming of his
hair, and the way it grew down on his temples, forming
a small quarter whisker.

She noted, too, how the muscles of his face had been
tightened as if some effort at self-control had set them
into a mask, the real man lying behind his kindly eyes,
despite the quick flash that escaped from them now and
then. The inspection over--and it had occupied some
seconds of time--she renewed the inquiry in a more
searching tone, as if she had not heard him aright at
first. "And who did ye say wanted me room?"

"I wanted it."

"Yes, but who for?"

"For myself."

"What! To live in?"

"I hope so--I certainly do not want it to die in."
A quiet smile trembled for an instant on his lips, momentarily
lightening an expression of extreme reserve.

"You won't do no dyin' if I can help it--but ye
don't know what kind a room it is. It's not mor'n
twice as big as that wagon. And ye want it for yourself?
Well, ye don't look it!"