He had long ago decided that relations of sentiment with Elfrida would require a temperament quite different from that of any man he knew.

It was entirely otherwise with Janet Cardiff, and Kendal smiled as he thought of the feminine variation the two girls illustrated.

He had a distinct recollection of one crisp October afternoon before he went to Paris, as they walked home together under the brown curling leaves and passed the Serpentine, when he had found that the old charm of Janet's gray eyes was changing to a new one.

He remembered the pleasure he had felt in dallying with the thought of making them lustrous, one day, with tenderness for himself.

It had paled since then, there had been so many other things; but still they were dear, honest eyes--and Kendal never brought his reverie to a conclusion under any circumstances whatever..