Billy and Miss Stevens were talking, too, with the greatest animation, and she was looking up at Billy as brightly, even more brightly he thought, than she had at himself.

There was a delicate flush on her cheeks.

Her lips, full and red and deliciously curved, were parted in a smile.

Confound it anyhow! What could she find to talk about with Billy Westlake?
He was turning away in more or less impatience, when Mr.Stevens, looking, in some way, with his aggressive, white, outstanding beard, as if he ought to have a red ribbon diagonally across his white shirt front, ranged beside him.
"Fine sight, isn't it ?" observed Mr.Stevens.
"Yes," admitted Mr.Turner, almost shortly, and forced himself to turn away from the following of that dazzling vision, which was almost painful under the circumstances.
By mutual impulse they walked down the length of the side porch and across the front porch.

Sam drew himself away from dancing and certain correlated ideas with a jerk.
"I've been wanting to talk with you, Mr.Stevens," he observed.