She sighed as, mechanically, she tucked a fresh handkerchief into her breast pocket, and started for Miss Clifford's room to say good-bye to the old lady. She hoped she would see Roger, but she did not like to ask where he was.
On her way through the hall she met Holliday. His appearance was decorous and subdued, as befitted the occasion, yet as he came up the stairs in his dark, inconspicuously correct attire, she felt in his manner something assured, almost proprietary, as if he considered himself already master here. She inclined her head slightly and was hurrying past when, to her surprise, he grasped her by the arm and pulled her around facing him.
"I beg your pardon?" she said, a little offended by casual insolence, and drew her arm away.
"Hello," he murmured softly, still detaining her by sleeve. "Stand as you are; let me look at you."
His shallow eyes ran over her carefully, taking in every detail of her appearance. Then he slapped his leg and gave a noiseless chuckle.
"By Jove!" he whispered deliberately, "by Jove!"
"Well, what's the matter?"
"Oh, nothing—only I've got it now."
"Got what?"
"Where it was I first saw you. Of course—fool that I was!"