All these things he realized in one swift comprehensive glance. But in another moment his whole attention was absorbed by the rich voice, the tones of which were like the softest music of some foreign southern land.
"It is scarcely fair to blame the night," she said, in smiling protest.
All unprepared for the encounter Ruxton had nothing but a stupid monosyllable to offer.
"No," he said, and a sigh somehow escaped him.
Then, in a moment, the blood was set swiftly pulsating through his veins.
"May I sit down?" the woman enquired. "I have had a long walk, and am a little tired," she added in explanation.
But she waited for no permission. And somehow Ruxton felt that her expression of weariness was far below the mark. She appeared quite exhausted.
"You are more than a little tired," he said, with urgent solicitude.
Now that her face was nearer to his level he could see that she was indeed very, very beautiful. Her eyes were large and almost oriental in their shape. Her cheeks were as delicate as the petals of a lily. The contour of her whole face was a perfect oval with just sufficient lengthening to give it character.
She did not deny him. But a smile lit her eyes.