“I think I never showed you that,” said Tranton simply.
“You never did,” I answered.
I had seen the face if I had not seen the picture before. The picture called up the breathing loveliness of a young girl with frank American eyes, and lips that always seemed about to ask the question her eyes answered; a girl with wonderful hair, and above all, with a manner which the word “charm” seems but vaguely to suggest. Every one liked Celeste. It was a great shock when suddenly they took her away to Colorado.... I remember the wonderful glow of flowers when they carried her out of the church....
Tranton said not a word. It was plain enough....
We sat there silently for a moment. I held the miniature in my hand.
“Tranton,” I said, not knowing what else to say, “I guess the women understand you pretty well, after all.”
There was a moment of silence.
“I am very easy,” said Tranton, “—to them.”
