"Haven't you heard of it ?" "Yes, I've heard of it." He glanced down at her stocking of thin gray silk.

"But I thought even then there were bandages." She smiled archly--he felt that he wanted to slap her--and glanced up at him with playful concern.

The gray-green rays were brighter in the daylight than he had remembered them and her mocking lips were the colour of cherries.

He thought of the thin pink curve of Margaret's mouth and wondered if the war had corrupted his taste.
Yes, Margaret was womanly; she was well bred; she possessed every attribute that in theory he admired; yet she had never awakened this sparkling interest, this attraction which was pungently flavoured with surprise that he could be so strangely attracted.

He could gaze unmoved by the hour on Margaret's smooth loveliness; but the tantalizing vision of this other girl's face, of her cloudy black hair and her clear skin and her changeable eyes, with their misty gleam like a firefly lost in a spring marsh--all these things were a part not of the tedious actuality, but of that hidden country of romance and adventure.