And he knew them--there lay the strangeness.

They were known beautiful eyes, in a foreign land of night and mist.
Lord Ormont was discoursing with racy eloquence of our hold on India: his views in which respect were those of Cuper's boys.

Weyburn ventured a dot-running description of the famous ride, and out flew an English soldier's grievance.

But was not the unjustly-treated great soldier well rewarded, whatever the snubs and the bitterness, with these large dark eyes in his house, for his own?
Eyes like these are the beginning of a young man's world; they nerve, inspire, arm him, colour his life; he would labour, fight, die for them.

It seemed to Weyburn a blessedness even to behold them.