She scrutinised his face, growing grave.
"You're awfully like George," she said, "except here."
She raised her hand, and with the tip of her forefinger touched his chin.
"You're sterner," she added.
It was the very point Merriam himself had noted. He admired her acuteness of observation. And of course he was flattered. But he realised that he was not being particularly stern at that moment.
"I expect I am," he said, trying to look, if not to be, more so.
Jennie moved an inch or two farther away from him, as if a little frightened by the iron qualities of this male.
"Where's Margery?" she asked.
"Here," said Margery's voice, with disconcerting patness.
She came through the portières and surveyed the two of them with an ironical look that was by no means lost on Merriam. He felt ashamed of himself.