We dine at eight," concluded Sylvia hurriedly.
Plank hung up the receiver and sat eyeing it for a while in silence.
Then his jaw began to harden and his under lip protruded, and he folded his great hands, resting them in front of him on the edge of the desk, brooding there, with eyes narrowing like a sleepy giant at prayer.
When Leila entered, in her evening wraps, she found him there, so immersed in reverie that he failed to hear her; and she stood a moment at the doorway, smiling to herself, thinking how pleasant it was to come down ready for the evening and find him there, as though he belonged where he sat, and was part of the familiar environment.
Recently she had grown younger in a smooth-skinned, full-lipped way--so much younger that it was spoken of.

Something girlish in figure, in spontaneity, in the hesitation of her smile, in the lack of that hard, brilliant confidence which once characterised her, had developed; as though she were beginning her debut again, reverting to a softness and charm prematurely checked.

Truly, her youth's discoloured blossom, forced by the pale phantom of false spring, was refolding to a bud once more; and the harsher tints of the inclement years were fading.
"Beverly," she said, "I am ready." Plank stood up, dazed from his reverie, and walked toward her.

His white tie had become disarranged; she raised her hands, halting him, and pulled it into shape for him, consciously innocent of the intimacy.
"Thank you," he said.

"Do you know how pretty you are this evening ?" "Yes; I was very happy at my mirror.