unruly, clinging against her temples, nestling at neck-nape. Her eyes
were the same deep violet--perhaps a little darker--a little softer--a
little less wondering; for years bring knowledge, and when one begins to
know, then one must cease, somewhat, to wonder. She had the soft, brown,
sun-kissed cheeks of her child, too, rounded and smooth, with the red
blood tinting them to a delicate pink. She had the finely-modelled,
cleanly-cut nose, and the expressive, sensitive mouth with its red lips,
and white teeth. And her chin was both beautiful and firm.

She moved lithely across the room to where Blake stood. He took her hand.

"Tom," she began, cordially. Her voice was low and deep, and very soft.
"We're so glad to see you.... You got Jack's message, then? We were
afraid you wouldn't."

Blake nodded.

"Caught it off Point Judith," he replied. "You should have seen us 'bout
ship and come spattering down the Sound. Those blockade-running persons
could have gained points from us We burned the bulwarks, the cargo and
most of my cigars. It looks as though we did so wisely, too; for we
haven't much time to spare, have we?"

"We leave in half an hour," she returned. "Sit down, Tom.... Jack will be
here soon."

"But what's it all about?" he asked. He sank into a chair, elbows on
knees, fingers clasped.

"Jack's trip abroad?"