Mordon came round with the car to pick her up soon after. Mordon! Her little chin jerked up with a gesture of annoyance, which she seldom permitted herself. And yet she felt unusually cheered. Her meeting with the Moor was a milestone in her life from which memory she could draw both encouragement and comfort.
"You met Muley?" said Lydia. "How thrilling! What is he like, Jean? Was he a blackamoor?"
"No, he wasn't a blackamoor," said the girl quietly. "He was an unusually intelligent man."
"H'm," grunted her father. "How did you come to meet him, my dear?"
"I picked him up on the beach," said Jean coolly, "as any flapper would pick up any nut."
Mr. Briggerland choked.
"I hate to hear you talking like that, Jean. Who introduced him?"
"I told you," she said complacently. "I introduced myself. I talked to him on the beach and he talked to me, and we sat down and played with the sand and discussed one another's lives."
"But how enterprising of you, Jean," said the admiring Lydia.
Mr. Briggerland was going to say something, but thought better of it.