He looked steadily into her brown eyes for a few moments. Then her gaze dropped and a dull flush mounted from her neck until it suffused her face.
He had never seen her look so beautiful. The wealth of her black hair was coiled about the top of her head like a crown, and held in its depths a silver butterfly.
Her gown was Quaker gray in color, and of some soft clinging material that enhanced the lines of her figure. It was an evening gown, and cut just low enough to be at the same time modest and beautiful. Code, without knowing why, admired her taste and told himself that she erred in no particular. Her mode of life was, at the same time, elegant and feminine––exactly suited her.
“You are easily made happy,” he remarked, referring to her last sentence.
“No, I’m not,” she contradicted him seriously. “I am the hardest woman in the world to make happy.”
“And helping me does it?”
“Yes.”
“You are a good woman,” he said gratefully, “and always seem to be doing for others. No one will ever forget how you offered to stand by the women of Grande Mignon while the men went fishing.”
Again Elsa blushed, but this time the color came from a different source. Little did he know that her philanthropy was all a part of the same plan––to win his favor.