“And what renders you immune?”
“The fact that—that the person most concerned has—has forgiven it.”
“Man or woman?”
“Woman.”
His eyes wandered along the cornice as he thought the matter out. I saw then that they were wonderfully clear gray eyes, not so much beautiful as perfect—perfect in their finish as to edge and eyelash, but perfect most of all because of their expression of benignity.
“I don’t believe I should give that away,” he said, at last; “not now, at any rate. If you want to tell me later—” He changed the subject abruptly by saying, “Is that the only shirt you’ve got?”
I told him I had two or three clean ones in my trunk, but that that was held by my last landlord.
“How much did you owe him?”
I produced a soiled and crumpled bill. He looked it over.
“We’ll send and pay the bill, and get your trunk.”