He let his eyes dwell steadily upon her pale, small, piquant face, lifted above the long, rounded throat, on which sparkled a slim gorget of rubies, to match her dress.
"You've done things that I wanted you to do before now," he said softly. "You'll do this, I am sure."
She put one hand on his arm. The hand was so tiny and white that it seemed to rest there as lightly as a drifted blossom. "Will you tell me all about her?" she said, in her measured way.
"I told you that I couldn't describe her. She's like flowers that I've seen; she's like music that I've heard; she is like perfumes that I have smelt. There's poetry for you. You're fond of poetry, you say."
She still kept her hand on his arm. He had very rarely praised a woman in her hearing. He had never before praised one in this fashion.
"Will you tell me one thing more?" she said. "Have you fallen in love with her?"
Goldwin threw back his head and laughed. "Good heavens!" he exclaimed, "she is a married woman, and her husband worships her."
"Will you answer my question?" persisted Mrs. Lee.
"Yes," said Goldwin, suddenly jumping up from the lounge. "She is tremendously fond of her husband. There ... your question is answered."