He looked down at her for a long moment with so penetrating a gaze that she grew embarrassed.
"There—that's the look of yours I like so much," he said at last, watching her colour rise. "You know you are just a nice child, Esther—an awfully nice child! That's how I first thought of you."
With a gesture half-afraid he put up one finger and touched a tendril of hair that had strayed loose on her neck. She felt shyer than before, and turned her attention to the roses.
"For me?" she asked, burying her face in their cool depths. "How too beautiful! I don't think I've ever seen roses so lovely before. There's—there's something special about them, somehow," she added truthfully.
"There is," he replied gravely, as he deposited his burden on the table.
Suddenly tongue-tied, she made an effort to speak naturally of other matters, avoiding the personal.
"Any news of … of that man?" she inquired.
Stupid that she still could not speak of him easily!
Roger saw that a faint shadow had darkened her upturned eyes, and it cut him to the heart.
"No, nothing yet—but don't let that distress you. The fellow is bound to be caught; it's only a question of time. You are not to be worried about it. Look at me! You are worrying, this minute."