The daintiness of her white dress, with all its pretty details, the touch
of blue in her hat, and at her waist, delighted his eyes. It pleased him
that there was not a trace in her of Bohemian carelessness in these
respects. Everything was simple, but everything was considered. She knew
her own beauty; that was clear. It gave her self-possession; but, so far
as he could see, without a trace of conceit. He had never met a young
girl with whom he could talk so easily.
She had greeted him with her most friendly smile. But it seemed to him
nevertheless that she was a little pensive and overcast.
"You dined here last night?" he asked her. "Did the lion roar properly?"
"Magnificently. You weren't there?"
"No. Undershaw put down his foot. I shan't submit much longer!"
"You're really getting strong?"
Her kind eyes considered him. He had often marveled that one so young
should be mistress of such a look--so softly frank and unafraid.
"A Hercules! Besides, the work's so interesting, one's no time to think
of one's game leg!"
"You're getting to know the estate?"
"I've been motoring about it for a fortnight, that's something for a
beginning. And I've got plenty of things to tell you."
He plunged into them. It was evident that he was resuming topics familiar
to them both. Their talk indeed showed them already intimate, sharers in
a common enterprise, where she was often inspiration, and he executive
and practical force. Ever since, indeed, she had said to him with that
kindled, eager look--"Accept! Accept!"--he had been sharply aware of how
best to approach, to attract her.
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