"Eyes are the most deceptive feature—there is no trusting them. I have grown quite tired of fine eyes."
The young American smiled in a peculiar manner. "I am beginning my mental questions."
"What do you mean?"
"I am wondering whether you yourself are always perfectly truthful."
She flushed, and looked annoyed. "You are quite justified. Of course, I was not speaking the exact truth—though it is really my opinion that eyes do not denote character."
"I think your eyes do—better than your words, perhaps."
"As how?"
He smiled again. "Well, that brings the confession that I was not perfectly truthful. I was not wondering—I never doubted that you were truthful and straightforward generally; though you might say things that were not quite so, some times."
She burst out laughing.
"Upon my word, Mr. Barham! That is a pretty character, and, unfortunately, it is quite true. It is lucky I am not like Mrs. Van Winkle—have you spoken to Mrs. Van Winkle? she is most amusing—who told me she loved flattery, in every form; there was no amount of it she could not swallow! Now, I like it, of course—what woman doesn't! But it must be in homœopathic doses. You have administered an infinitesimal grain of it wrapped up in a very wholesome bitter. I shall take care what I say to you in future."