Now he lighted another cigar and stood up close to one of the windows.
Faintly he caught the sound of a step on the board walk outside.

It was a light, quick step, and for an instant it hesitated, just out of his vision.

Then it approached, and suddenly the figure of a woman stopped in front of the window.

How she was dressed Howland could not have told a moment later.

All that he saw was the face, white in the white night--a face on which the shimmering starlight fell as it was lifted to his gaze, beautiful, as clear-cut as a cameo, with eyes that looked up at him half-pleadingly, half-luringly, and lips parted, as if about to speak to him.