LIPS THAT SPEAK NOT Howland was not a man easily susceptible to a pair of eyes and a pretty face.

The practical side of his nature was too much absorbed in its devices and schemes for the building of material things to allow the breaking in of romance.

At least Howland had always complimented himself on this fact, and he laughed a little nervously as he went back to his seat near the window.

He was conscious that a flush of unusual excitement had leaped into his cheeks and already the practical side of him was ashamed of that to which the romantic side had surrendered.
"The deuce, but she was pretty!" he excused himself.

"And those eyes--" Suddenly he checked himself.