Eugene was struck with all her charm at once. She seemed like one of those unattainable creatures who had swum into his ken a little earlier and disappeared. There was something of the girl with the corn-colored hair about her, only she had been more human, less like a dream. This girl was fine, delicate, pink, like porcelain. She was fragile and yet virile. He caught his breath, but he was more or less afraid of her. He did not know what she might be thinking of him.
"Well, we're going on to the house," said Myrtle.
"I'd go along if I hadn't promised Harry I'd come over."
"Oh, that's all right," replied Myrtle. "We don't mind."
He withdrew, feeling that he had made a very poor impression. Stella's eyes had been on him in a very inquiring way. She looked after him when he had gone.
"Isn't he nice?" she said to Myrtle frankly.
"I think so," replied Myrtle; "kind o'. He's too moody, though."
"What makes him?"
"He isn't very strong."
"I think he has a nice smile."