his eyes, so unaccustomed to noticing dainty details, gave him a
mingled sensation of delight and embarrassment. It had been many
a day, many a year, since he had consciously observed his wife.
She was too useful for him to permit himself to be influenced by
questions of beauty into underrating her value, and he was a
respectable husband, if not a kind one. They had jogged on so
long together that he would have said he had ceased to be
conscious of her appearance. But suddenly he felt that he could
not continue to endure, for another day, the sight of the
spreading, flat house-slippers which, because of her two hundred
and forty pounds and frequently rheumatic feet, she wore about
her work. Moreover, it was forcibly borne in upon him just what a
source of irritation they had been. And they were only as a drop
in the bucket! Well, such thoughts did no one any good. Thank
heaven, from now on he would have Rose to look at.

They settled down beside each other in the front seat and he was
aware that her lovely eyes, so violet-blue and ivory-white, were
studying him admiringly. Here was a man, she was deciding, who
for his age was the physical superior of any she had ever met. He
was clearly one of those whom toil did not bend, and while, she
concluded further, he might be taken for all of his fifty-four
years it would be simply because of his austere manner.

Martin sustained her scrutiny until they were well out of Fallon
and speeding along on a good level road. Then with a teasing
"turn about's fair play," he, too, took a frank look, oddly
stirred by the sophisticated touches which added so subtly to her
natural beauty. From her soft, thick brown hair done up cleverly
in the latest mode and her narrow eyebrows arched, oh, so