Casually he glanced up from the two letters which he had spread out before him.

The one who had followed him was a woman.

She had turned sharply upon seeing him and seated herself at the next table, her back so toward him that he caught only her half profile.
It was enough to assure him that she was young and pretty.

On her head she wore a turban of silver lynx fur, and about this she had drawn her glossy brown hair, which shone like burnished copper in the lamp-glow, and had gathered it in a bewitchingly coquettish knot low on her neck, where it shone with a new richness and a new warmth with every turn of her head.

But not once did she turn so that Philip could see more than the tantalizing pink of her cheek and the prettiness of her chin, which at times was partly concealed in a collarette of the same silver gray lynx fur.
He ate his supper almost mechanically, in spite of his hunger, for his mind was deep in the mysterious problem which confronted him.