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Benhem close enough to speak to him until the other evening." She raised
her black lashes and looked straight at Stephen with her challenging
glance. "All the men seemed so serious, except you."
He laughed and flushed slightly. "And I did not?"
Though her manner could not have been more indifferent, there was an
undercurrent of feeling in her voice, as if she meant something more
than she had put into words. He might take it as he chose, lightly or
seriously, her look implied--and it was, he admitted, a thrilling look
from such eyes as hers.
"You are nearer my age," she rejoined, "though you do seem so old
sometimes."
A depressing dampness fell on his mood. "Do I seem old to you? I am only
twenty-six."
Her inquiring eyebrows were raised in mockery. "That is too old to play,
isn't it?"
"Well, I might try," he answered, and added curiously, "I wonder whom
you find to play with? Not your father?"
"Oh, no, not Father. He is as serious as Mr. Benham, only he laughs a
great deal more.


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