If you were a poet in need of rhymes, you had only to turn to a certain page. The whole affair interested him deeply. Perhaps these few words were the first real conscious words he had uttered in days. ” He saw her into the train at Waterloo, and stood, a tall, grave figure, with hat upraised, as the carriage moved forward slowly and hid him. He leaned towards her as though anxious to see more of her face than that faint delicate profile gleaming like marble in the uncertain light. They had as many designations as grades. Taking this for encouragement, her suitor proceeded still more extravagantly. It was her foster brother Mike, on his way to the bathroom. But the figure was evidently too intent on peering within the ballroom to pay any attention to what might be occurring outside.
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