She was not down until she had taken time to bathe her red eyes, powder her telltale nose, smoothe her ruffled hair, and whip herself into the calm, steady-eyed, self-controlled young woman that Arkwright finally rose to meet when she came into the room.
"I thought it was only women who were privileged to change their mind," she began brightly; but Arkwright ignored her attempt to conventionalize the situation.
"Thank you for coming down," he said, with a weariness that instantly drove the forced smile from the girl's lips.

"I--I wanted to--to talk to you." "Yes ?" She seated herself and motioned him to a chair near her.

He took the seat, and then fell silent, his eyes out the window.
"I thought you said you--you wanted to talk, she reminded him nervously, after a minute.
"I did." He turned with disconcerting abruptness.

"Alice, I'm going to tell you a story." "I shall be glad to listen.

People always like stories, don't they ?" "Do they ?" The somber pain in Arkwright's eyes deepened.