He looked at her but fleetingly, and seemed to suffer from the
heat, in spite of every manly effort not to wipe his brow too
often. His colour, after rising when he greeted Alice and her
father, had departed, leaving him again moistly pallid; a
condition arising from discomfort, no doubt, but, considered as a
decoration, almost poetically becoming to him. Not less becoming
was the faint, kindly smile, which showed his wish to express
amusement and approval; and yet it was a smile rather strained
and plaintive, as if he, like Adams, could only do the best he
could.

He pleased Adams, who thought him a fine young man, and decidedly
the quietest that Alice had ever shown to her family. In her
father's opinion this was no small merit; and it was to Russell's
credit, too, that he showed embarrassment upon this first
intimate presentation; here was an applicant with both reserve
and modesty. "So far, he seems to be first rate a mighty fine
young man," Adams thought; and, prompted by no wish to part from
Alice but by reminiscences of apparent candidates less pleasing,
he added, "At last!"

Alice's liveliness never flagged. Her smoothing over of things
was an almost continuous performance, and had to be. Yet, while
she chattered through the hot and heavy courses, the questions
she asked herself were as continuous as the performance, and as
poignant as what her eyes seemed to be asking Russell. Why had
she not prevailed over her mother's fear of being "skimpy?" Had
she been, indeed, as her mother said she looked, "in a trance?"
But above all: What was the matter with HIM? What had happened?
For she told herself with painful humour that something even