"
She took the stroke steadily, but a faint red swept her face
like the reflection of a blush. She continued to keep her
lowered eyes on the screen.
"From whose point of view do you speak?"
"Naturally, that of the persons most concerned."
"From Owen's, then, of course? You don't think me a good
match for him?"
"From yours, first of all. I don't think him a good match
for you."
He brought the answer out abruptly, his eyes on her face.
It had grown extremely pale, but as the meaning of his words
shaped itself in her mind he saw a curious inner light dawn
through her set look. She lifted her lids just far enough
for a veiled glance at him, and a smile slipped through them
to her trembling lips. For a moment the change merely
bewildered him; then it pulled him up with a sharp jerk of
apprehension.
"I don't think him a good match for you," he stammered,
groping for the lost thread of his words.
She threw a vague look about the chilly rain-dimmed room.
"And you've brought me here to tell me why?"
The question roused him to the sense that their minutes were
numbered, and that if he did not immediately get to his
point there might be no other chance of making it.
"My chief reason is that I believe he's too young and
inexperienced to give you the kind of support you need."
At his words her face changed again, freezing to a tragic
coldness.
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