"Hazel eyes!" he was thinking. "Where have I heard of another girl with hazel eyes? Oh, yes, it was the pretty stenographer who tried to spy on Silas Gyde. She had chestnut hair, too, and a mole inside her right forefinger. I don't suppose these tapering fingers ever jarred the keys."
"What are you thinking of, Mr. Robinson?" Miss Culbreth asked in silvery tones. "I declare you are one of those dreadful men that bore you through and through with their eyes and never say a word."
"I'd rather bore you with my eyes than with my conversation."
"Mercy! Clever, too! I'm frightened to death of you!"
"Didn't I tell you he was clever?" put in poor Bobo, without at all appreciating what was going on.
"The worst of it is," said Miss Culbreth, "that the men who won't talk are those who really have something to say."
This was accompanied by the shadow of a disdainful glance in Bobo's direction, and a warm flash towards Jack, the suggestion being: "One has to humor the stupid rich, but one enjoys oneself with the witty poor!"
Jack was flattered through and through, but at the same time he was thinking: "She's a regular man-eater. I'll have to watch out for poor Bobo."
"You don't approve of me," she said, casting down the lovely eyes.
"Indeed I do," Jack protested. "What you mistake for disapproval is quite another feeling."