As Ted Strong leaned over the iron railing, looking down into the lower
waiting room, he was conscious that a woman had stepped to his side.
Glancing up sideways, he saw that close to him was a very beautiful
young girl, who wore a traveling cloak of pearl gray, and a long feather
boa, which the draft had blown across his sleeve.
His glance intercepted one from her, and not wishing her to think that
he was idly staring at her, he directed his gaze once more to the
surging crowd below. As his eyes wandered over the throng, he saw a man
look up, and make the most imperceptible gesture with his head.
He did not know the man. Turning swiftly to the young lady at his side,
he caught sight of a smile and a slight uplifting of her eyebrows.
Undoubtedly a signal had passed between the two, and Ted, not wishing
to be an eavesdropper, looked away again. But in the swift glance he had
given the young girl--for now he saw that she was little else--he made a
mental note of her. The gray eyes with the long, dark lashes, the oval
face, beautiful in shape and of an ivory tint; the scarlet, curving
lips, the slender, trim figure, and the strange, subtle perfume which
she exhaled, one would never forget.
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