"About their drawing attention, or their absence drawing it? I suppose so. But when you don't know which it is, but judge by the richness of the gown that the wearer can afford them—"
"I'm no judge of the richness of a gown."
"I am, then. That is the most wonderful lace—anybody can see—at least any woman."
"Tell me, Miss Everett,"—Leaver made a determined effort to get away from the personal aspect of the subject,—"why does a woman love jewels? For their own sake, or because of their power to adorn her—if they do adorn her?"
The young woman plunged animatedly into a discussion of the topic as he presented it. She was wearing certain striking ornaments of pearl and turquoise, which undoubtedly became her fair colouring whether they enhanced her beauty or not. It was while this discussion was in progress, Leaver forcing himself to attend sufficiently to make intelligent replies, that Charlotte Ruston suddenly turned and looked at him. He looked straight back at her, a peculiar intentness growing in his deep-set eyes.
He did not withdraw his gaze until she had turned away again, and the encounter had been but for the briefest space, yet when it was over John Leaver's colour had changed a little. For the moment it was as if nobody else had been in the room—he was only dully conscious that upon his other side Winifred Chester was addressing him, and that he must make reply.
When the company which had spent the sultry August evening upon the porch in the semi-darkness was near to breaking up, Leaver came to Charlotte and took his place beside her. When she left the house he was with her, and the two crossed the street and went in at the hedge gate together.
"May I stay a very little while?" he asked. And when she assented he added, "Shall we find the bench in your garden?"
"Do you know that bench?" she questioned, surprised.
"I spent many hours upon it before you came, and during the days when I was not getting about much. I listened to the reading of two books, lounging there. So it seems like a familiar spot to me."