Then, still smiling and looking toward the window, he says, and, as he says it, his eyes—at which he knows his companion is looking—wander over the room,
“A very pretty cage!”
The eyes drop upon hers as they finish the circuit of the room. They say no more than the lips have said. And Miss Grace Plumer answers,
“I thought you were going to say a very noisy bird.”
“But the bird is not very noisy,” says the young man, his dark eyes still holding hers.
There is a moment of silence, during which Miss Plumer may have her fancy of what he means. If so, she does not choose to betray it. If her eyes are clear and shrewd, the woman’s wit is not less so. It is with an air of the utmost simplicity that she replies,
“It was certainly noisy enough to drown what I was saying.”
There is a sound upon her other side as if a musical bell rang.
“Miss Plumer!”
Her head turns. This time Mr. Sligo Moultrie sees the massive dark braids of her hair behind. The ripe mouth half smiles upon Prince Abel.