“No;” pursing up his mouth and raising his eyebrows. “I should not say he shrank from her. And who do you consider the best-looking man in Shirani, Miss Valpy? Your taste is so cultivated.”
“Present company always excepted?” with a mocking glance out of the corner of her eye.
He nodded with a solemn acquiescence.
“Mr. Jervis, of course,” was her promptly off-hand opinion.
“Oh, come—I say,” expostulated the youth.
“Yes, I will say that he is extremely handsome; not in the big moustache, hooked-nose, bold brigand-style. He has a noble air; the shape of his head, the cast of his features, the expression of his eyes, embody my idea of a hero.”
“A hero!” ejaculated her listener. “Great Scot! A pity he has no way of showing what stuff he is made of, beyond beating buffaloes away from old ladies.”
“Yes, it is a pity. However, his opportunity may come yet. It is also a still greater pity that one can never praise one man to another.”
“Well,” nursing his knee meditatively, “I will admit that Jervis is passable, and looks clean bred——”
“Thank you, that is very kind of you. Does it not strike you that he is afflicted with an old-fashioned infirmity, and is decidedly shy?”