"Will he—do it again?"
"He's quiet now and Mrs. Biggs can manage him."
"Isn't she afraid?"
"Not she." His thoughts plainly left old Halkett and settled themselves on her. "Are you?"
"Yes." She shuddered. "But then, I'm not used to it."
He was beating his leggings with his cane. "There's a lot in use," he said vaguely. He was a tall man, and on his tanned face were no signs of the excesses imputed to him, perhaps out of vainglory, by Mrs. Samson. A brown moustache followed the line of a lip which was sometimes pouted sullenly, yet with a simplicity which could be lovable. The hair was short and crisp on his round head.
Miriam watched his shapely hands playing with the cane, and she looked up to find his eyes attentively on her. She smiled without haste. She had a gift for smiling. Her mouth stretched delicately, her lips parted to show a gleam of teeth, opened widely for a flash, and closed again.
"What are you laughing at?" he asked her, and there was a faint glow in his cheeks.
"That wasn't laughing. That was smiling. When I laugh I say ha, ha!"
"Well, you looked pleased about something," he mumbled.