A soul--a woman's soul--was shining at him out of her eyes.

It wasn't her physical self that spoke--in a way he knew that.

Yet she was calling to him, calling to him with all she possessed, calling to him as to her master.
He succeeded in persuading her to eat and drink, and she departed, a little grim and unpleased, in the motor car which Mr.Foley had insisted upon ordering round.

Then Maraton strolled into the garden to take his delayed coffee.

Elisabeth came noiselessly across the turf to his side.
"I hope there was nothing disturbing in your letters ?" she said.
"Not very," he replied.