She had had but few opportunities to study him in detail unobserved.
She had never thought him handsome, for he was clean shaven, with
deep vertical lines, and he wore his black hair very short. Her
preference was for fair men with drooping moustaches and locks
sweeping the collar; although her admiration for this somewhat
standardized type had so far been wholly impersonal. Even the doctor
clipped his moustache as it interfered with his soup, and his rusty
brown hair was straight, although of the orthodox length. But she had
not married Howard for his looks!

She noted the hard line of jaw and sharp incisive profile. His face
had power as well as intellect, yet there was a hint of weakness
somewhere. Possibly the lips of his well-cut mouth were a trifle too
firmly set to be unselfconscious. And his broad forehead lacked
serenity. There was a furrow between the eyes.

It was with the eyes she was most familiar. They were gray,
brilliant, piercing, wide apart and deeply set. She had noted more
than once something alert, watchful, in their expression, as if they
were the guardians of the intellect above and defied the weakness the
lower part of his face barely hinted to clash for a moment with his
ambitions.

She heard little of his rapid fire of questions and Howard's
answers; but when the doctor had pulled out his watch, kissed her
hurriedly, snatched his bag and dashed from the room, Masters took
her hands in his, his eyes glowing.

"Did you hear?" he cried. "Did you hear? I am to have my own