The Man with the Chin
"I shouldn't like to marry a man with a chin like that," said the girl in red. Her companion, a ferret-faced young gentleman with his hair parted in the middle, inserted his eye-glass and stared deliberately across the room.
"Obstinate-lookin' beggar—what?" he drawled.
Unconscious of these criticisms, George Leslie sat at his solitary table, only looking up from his newspaper whenever the door of the room opened to admit a fresh arrival. It was on the sixth occasion that his inspection appeared to be successful. His lips parted in a smile, and, laying down his paper, he rose quietly from his chair.
The girl in red nudged her companion.
"She's come at last. Kept him waiting long enough."
The ferret-faced young man indulged himself in another leisurely survey. "Worth it, too, by Jove!" he ejaculated admiringly.
His criticism, if a trifle crude in expression, was sound enough in taste. The girl who had just come in was most distinctly worth waiting for. Beautifully dressed, with a shy yet charming prettiness, she moved across the tea-room towards Leslie, and held out her hand with a little smile of apology.
"I am so sorry!" she said. "I know I'm dreadfully late."
There was a momentary twinkle in Leslie's grey eyes.