"It is the end of the first day of real work," she said. "The end and the beginning."
Her companion, usually like wax to her moods, made no answer. He did not seem to hear. His gaze seemed drowned in that wonderful blue. Desire, who had been unaccountably content, felt suddenly lonely and disturbed.
"What is it?" she asked. Her voice had fallen from its glad note. She put out her hand, touching his coat sleeve timidly. It was the first time she had ever touched him save in service. But if her touch brought a thrill there was no> sign of it. Her voice dropped still lower, "What are you thinking of?" she almost whispered.
The professor did not answer. Instead he turned to her with a sad smile. (Very well done, too!)
Desire dropped her hand with a sharp exclamation. "Oh," she said, "I forgot! You were thinking—"
The professor's smile smote her.
"Her eyes were blue like that!" he said.
Desire tripped over a fallen branch. And, when she recovered herself, "Purple, do you mean?" she asked. "I have always thought purple eyes were a myth."
"Now you are making fun," said the professor after a reproachful pause.
"How do you mean—making fun?"