The dark eyes, and the proud, sweet mouth so like those of the man she loved, won her in spite of herself.
At dinner, where she stood droopingly behind little Ruby's chair, the master of the house did not even glance toward her, so that she had a fair chance to observe him from under her heavy, curling lashes.
The scrutiny did not satisfy her, although she could not have told how it chanced, for Mr. Desmond was faultlessly handsome.
He had a fair, effeminate face, full of languid passion, and those large, long-lashed gray eyes which can shoot the most killing glances.
His hair was parted in the middle with scrupulous exactness. His dress was elegant to the verge of foppishness, and a magnificent diamond sparkled on his white hand.
His wife and little daughter seemed to regard him with the most admiring affection, which he accepted with a bored and rather patronizing air.
When the long and ceremonious dinner was over, little Ruby sprang down from her chair and caught his hand.
"Come, papa, come, mamma," she cried, "you must go to the nursery now."
They went away with her, and when Golden returned to the nursery later, she found the little girl sitting on her father's knee, and chatting volubly to him, while Mrs. Desmond was nowhere to be seen.