He set down his coffee-cup without regard to taste or direction, his gaze fixed upon the trim, slender figure in blue.

He now saw that her dark eyes were filled with a soft seriousness that belied her brave smile; a delicate pink had come into her clear, high-bred face; the hesitancy of the gentlewoman enveloped her with a mantle that shielded her from any suspicion of boldness.

Brock struggled to his feet, amazement written in his face.
"Good morning, Roxbury," she said, in the most impersonal of greetings.
Her smile deepened as the blankness increased in his face.

In the most casual, matter-of-fact manner, she appropriated the chair across the table from his.

"Please sit down, Roxy." He sat down abruptly.