"Thanks."
"You're as much alike as two black-eyed peas—except that you're more slender and boyish."
"And not quite so good-looking?"
A low mischievous laugh was her answer as John lifted his hat and stood smiling before them.
"Miss Winter, this is my brother, whose praises I've long been chanting. I've a little work to do in the crowd—I'll be back in a few minutes."
There was just a touch of irony in the smile with which the younger man spoke as he hurried away, but the girl was too much absorbed in the striking picture John Vaughan made to notice. The sparkling brown eyes took him in from head to foot in a quick comprehending flash. The fame of his personal appearance was more than justified. He was the most strikingly good-looking man she had ever seen, and to her surprise there was not the slightest trace of self-consciousness or conceit about him. His high intellectual forehead, thick black hair inclined to curl at the ends and straight heavy eyebrows suggested at once a man of brains and power. He looked older than he was—at least thirty, though he had just turned twenty-six. The square strong jaw and large chin were eloquent of reserve force. Two rows of white, perfect teeth smiled behind the black drooping moustache and invited friendship. The one disquieting feature about him was the look from the depths of his dark brown eyes—so dark they were black in shadow. He had been a dreamer when very young and followed Charles A. Dana to Brook Farm for a brief stay.
Before he had spoken a dozen words the girl felt the charm of his singular and powerful personality.
"I needn't say that I'm glad to see you, Miss Winter," he began, with a friendly smile. "Ned has told me so much about you the past month I'd made up my mind to join the Abolitionists, and apply for a secretaryship to the Senator if I couldn't manage it any other way."
"And you'll be content to resume a normal life after to-day?"
She looked into his eyes with mischievous challenge. She had recovered her poise.