Behind the eyes which gazed up
at him, dear and sweet as pools of sunlit water, he knew there lay
the consuming passion for power, for admiration, for the froth-
like pleasures of the life that was swirling about them. Sincerity
was but their mask. He knew that the beautiful gray eyes lied to
him when he saw in them all that he held glorious in womanhood.
He laughed softly to himself as the picture grew in his mind, and
he saw Ransom come blundering in through the palms, mopping his
red face and chattering inane things to little Miss Meesen. Ransom
was always blundering. This time his blunder saved Philip. The
passionate words died on his lips; and when Ransom and Miss Meesen
turned about in a giggling flutter, he spoke no words of love, but
opened up his heart to this girl whom he would have loved if she
had been like her eyes. It was his last hope--that she would
understand him, see with him the emptiness of his life, sympathize
with him.
And she had laughed at him!
She had risen to her feet; there had come for an instant a flash
like that of fire in her eyes; her voice trembled a little when
she spoke. There was resentment in the poise of her white
shoulders as Ransom's voice came to them in a loud laugh from
behind the palms; her red lips showed disdain and anger.
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