Inwardly he was convinced it would be best to keep to
himself the incidents of the past two days and nights. "It was a
beautiful face."
"And the eyes!" added Gregson, his own gleaming with enthusiasm. "She
looked at me squarely this afternoon when she and that dark fellow
passed, and I swear they're the most beautiful eyes I ever saw. And
her hair--"
"Do you think that she knew you?" asked Howland quietly.
Gregson hunched his shoulders.
"How the deuce could she know me?"
"Then why did she look at you so 'squarely?' Trying to flirt, do you
suppose?"
Surprise shot into Gregson's face.
"By thunder, no, she wasn't flirting!" he exclaimed. "I'd stake my life
on that. A man never got a clearer, more sinless look than she gave me,
and yet--Why, deuce take it, she _stared_ at me! I didn't see her again
after that, but the dark fellow was in here half of the afternoon, and
now that I come to think of it he did show some interest in me. Why
do you ask?"
"Just curiosity," replied Howland, "I don't like flirts."
"Neither do I," said Gregson musingly. Their supper came on and they
conversed but little until its end. Howland had watched his companion
closely and was satisfied that he knew nothing of Croisset or the girl.
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