Gregson stared at him in surprise. "Why don't you laugh?" he asked.
"It is not a laughing matter," said Philip. "I say that I understand. And I do."
Gregson looked from Philip's face to the picture.
"Does it—does it hit you that way, Phil?"
"She is very beautiful."
"She is more than that," declared Gregson, warmly. "If I ever looked into an angel's face it was yesterday, Phil. For just a moment I met her eyes—"
"And they were—"
"Wonderful!"
"I mean—the color," said Philip, engaging himself with the food.
"They were blue or gray. It is the first time I ever looked into a woman's eyes without being sure of the color of them. It was her hair, Phil—not this tinsel sort of gold that makes you wonder if it's real, but the kind you dream about. You may think me a loon, but I'm going to find out who she is and where she is as soon as I have done with this breakfast."