Above the work-table was a drop-light—kerosene. It did not seem quite fair. The young officer sat in front, his hat perfectly straight. She contrived to break down the barriers of shyness at last in one direction, and talked one night of love and the facts of love with Miss Miniver. The girl was like some north-country woodland pool, penetrated by a single shaft of sunlight—beautifully clear in one spot and mysteriously obscured elsewhere. He then spoke with a certain fatherly kindliness of the past. That was the wonder of these stories; one lived in them. . You wore a blue dress with your hair unbound, and never had I seen a maid so glorious with eyes so blue or a smile so bright. He pulled down a chair to her left.
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