Presently, therefore, he issued from his room, and, making for the stairs, found himself walking behind a young woman similarly purposed. He had not spoken to a female of any kind for nearly a year, and this fact may have accounted for the quite surprising impression her back view made upon him. It seemed to him that she had a wonderful pair of shoulders, startling black hair, and an excellent figure excellently garbed. He hoped devoutly that she was pretty; but, as she turned to glance at him, he saw that her face was perhaps more interesting than actually beautiful. It was like an ancient Egyptian bas-relief—an Isis or a Hathor. It was sufficiently strange, indeed, with the high cheek-bones, the raven-black hair, and the wise, smiling mouth, to arouse his curiosity, and her dark-fringed grey eyes seemed frankly to invite his admiration.
At the foot of the stairs, when he was close behind her, he suddenly felt giddy again, and swayed towards her; at which she stared at him in cold surprise.
“I beg your pardon,” he said, clutching at the banister, and wondering why the light had become so dim.
A moment later he pitched forward, grabbed at the hand she instantly held out to him, and knew no more.
When he recovered consciousness he was lying upon the bed in his own room, and this black-haired woman whom he had seen upon the stairs was leaning over him—like a mother, he thought—dabbing his forehead with water.
“That’s better,” he heard her say. “You’ll be all right now.”
He sat up, at once fully aware of his situation. “I’m awfully sorry,” he exclaimed. “Did I faint?”
“Yes,” was the answer. “I caught you as you fell.”
Jim swore under his breath. “I’ve been ill,” he said. “I didn’t realize I was so weak. Did I make an awful ass of myself?”