"Why not?" said Thorn coolly.
"I don't know why not," said Charlton, "except that she has not a tithe of her beauty. That's a superb girl!"
For a matter of twenty yards Mr. Thorn went softly humming a tune to himself and leisurely switching the flies off his horse.
"Well,"--said he,--"there's no accounting for tastes--
'I ask no red and white
To make up my delight,
No odd becoming graces,
Black eyes, or little know-not-what in faces.'"
"What do you want then?" said Charlton, half laughing at him, though his friend was perfectly grave.
"A cool eye, and a mind in it."
"A cool eye!" said Rossitur.
"Yes. Those we have left behind us are arrant will-o'the-wisps--dancing fires--no more."
"I can tell you there is fire sometimes in the other eyes," said Charlton.