And her hair--" "Do you think that she knew you ?" asked Howland quietly.
Gregson hunched his shoulders.
"How the deuce could she know me ?" "Then why did she look at you so 'squarely ?' Trying to flirt, do you suppose ?" Surprise shot into Gregson's face.
"By thunder, no, she wasn't flirting!" he exclaimed.

"I'd stake my life on that.

A man never got a clearer, more sinless look than she gave me, and yet--Why, deuce take it, she _stared_ at me! I didn't see her again after that, but the dark fellow was in here half of the afternoon, and now that I come to think of it he did show some interest in me.

Why do you ask ?" "Just curiosity," replied Howland, "I don't like flirts." "Neither do I," said Gregson musingly.

Their supper came on and they conversed but little until its end.