They were big, dark, questing eyes--eyes that had in them a hunting look, as though they hoped to find in his face the answer to a great question.

Never in his life had he seen eyes that were so haunted by a great unrest, or that held in their lustrous depths the smouldering glow of a deeper grief.

Then the face added itself to the eyes.

It was not a young face.

The woman was past forty.