The tones of his voice, too, had the old musical ring.

It was the same madcap, daredevil boy mellowed and strengthened by contact with the outside world.

Next he scrutinized his hands, their backs bronzed and roughened by contact with the weather, and waited eagerly until some gesture opened the delicately turned fingers, exposing the white palms, and felt relieved and glad when he saw that they showed no rough usage.

His glance rested on his well-turned thighs, slender waist, and broad, strong shoulders and arms--and then his eyes--so clear, and his skin so smooth and fresh--a clean soul in a clean body! What joy would be Temple's when he got his arms around this young fellow once more! The wanderer reached for his cap and pushed back his chair.

For an instant he stood gazing into the smouldering coals as if he hated to leave their warmth, his brow clouded, his shoulders drawn back.