It's little I can teach; but, if you like, I'll teach you all I know." "O Phineas!" One flash of those bright, moist eyes, and he walked hastily across the road.

Thence he came back, in a minute or two, armed with the tallest, straightest of briar-rose shoots.
"You like a rose-switch, don't you?
I do.

Nay, stop till I've cut off the thorns." And he walked on beside me, working at it with his knife, in silence.
I was silent, too, but I stole a glance at his mouth, as seen in profile.

I could almost always guess at his thoughts by that mouth, so flexible, sensitive, and, at times, so infinitely sweet.

It wore that expression now.