Only her face was clear, frail and delicate, almost flower-like, with the sad haunting eyes ever watching his. By policemen one mustn’t shock. The image in the glass was not clear, for the light was not bright enough to see properly, but the shadows of her riding habit and the hat with its waving plumes framed a countenance that gazed serenely back at her out of long-lashed blue eyes. The next morning came a compact letter from her father. “You are neither of you in the least like the ordinary boarding-house young man. "But trifle with mo no longer. More importantly, she had her wits. It’s—it’s a social difference.
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