I suppose that makes a man look thoughtful." "Poor Mr.Laverick," she murmured softly.

"Are things any better now ?" "Much better." "Then you have nothing really to bother you ?" she persisted.
"I suppose we all have something," he replied, suddenly grave.
"Why do you ask that ?" She leaned across the table.

In the shaded light, her oval face with its little halo of deep brown hair seemed to him as though it might have belonged to some old miniature.

She was delightful, like Watteau-work upon a piece of priceless porcelain--delightful when the lights played in her eyes and the smile quivered at the corner of her lips.

Just now, however, she became very much in earnest.
"I will tell you why I ask that question," she said.