Hugh looked at her. Because he regarded one woman as the embodiment of all that was perfect and graceful and beautiful, it did not blind him to beauty in others. He saw in this girl what those blinder than he had not yet recognised—the dawning of a wonderful, a radiant and glowing beauty. And because he had a very sincere and honest appreciation of the beautiful, she interested him, and he smiled. He lifted his hat.
The girl stared at him; she started a little as he raised his hat. She gave the slightest inclination of her head. It was not encouraging.
Hugh sat down. He was thinking of the man he had seen a while ago—a clean, honest, open-faced man, a man he felt he could like, and yet by every reason ought to hate.
The girl was studying his profile.
She had the suspicion that is inherent in all shy wild things, and yet, looking at him, she felt that this man was no dangerous animal to be feared and avoided.
Turning suddenly, he caught her glance and smiled.
“You live here?”
“No!”
“Yet you—oh, I see, you are staying here—”
“No, I live at Little Langbourne.”