He watched without appearing to do so
the slender girl in white at the wheel. Her motions delighted him.
There was a very winning charm in the softly curving contours of her
face, in that flowerlike and precious quality in her personality which
lay back of her boyish comradeship.
She drew up to look at some pond lilies, and they talked about them for
a moment, after which her direct eyes questioned him frankly.
He painted with a light brush the picture of his adventure into
Bohemia. The details he filled in whimsically, in the picturesque
phraseology of the West. Up stage on his canvas was the figure of the
poet in velveteens. That Son of the Stars he did full justice. Jerry
Durand and Kitty Mason were accessories sketched casually.
Even while her face bubbled with mirth at his story of the improvised
tango that had wrecked the Sea Siren, the quick young eyes of the girl
were taking in the compelling devil-may-care charm of Lindsay.
Battered though he was, the splendid vigor of the man still showed in a
certain tigerish litheness that sore, stiff muscles could not conceal.
No young Greek god's head could have risen more superbly from the
brick-tanned column of his neck than did this bronzed one.
"I gather that Mr. Lindsay of Arizona was among those present,"
Beatrice said, smiling.
"I was givin' the dance," he agreed, and his gay eyes met hers.
Since she was a woman, one phase of his story needed expansion for Miss
Whitford.
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