From her point of observation, Mrs. Sherwood watched them go. Nan looked very tired, and every line of Keith's figure expressed a grumpy moroseness.
"Congratulations," said Sherwood.
"He certainly is a child of nature," returned his wife. "Look at him!
He is cross, so he looks cross. That this is a ballroom and that all
San Francisco is present is a mere detail."
"How did you break it up?" asked Sherwood curiously.
"Men are so utterly ridiculous! He had built up a lot of illusions for himself, but his instincts are true and good. It needed only a touch. It was absurdly simple."
"He'll go back to the Morrell to-morrow," asserted Sherwood confidently.
She shook her head.
"Not to her. He sees her now. And not to-morrow. But eventually to somebody, perhaps. He has curly hair."
Sherwood laughed.
"Shear him, like Sampson," he suggested. "But it strikes me he has about the most attractive woman—bar one—in town right at home."