"
"His eyes are not bad eyes, are they?" Florrie ran on. "Oh, I know
what papa thinks and what Rod thinks about him; but I just don't
believe it! How could a man be the sort they say he is and still be as
pleasant and agreeable and downright good-looking as Mr. Galloway?
Why," and she achieved a quick little shudder, "if I had done all the
terrible deeds they accuse him of I'd go around looking as black as a
cloud all the time, savage and glum and remembering every minute how
wicked I was."
Virginia laughed, failing to picture Florrie grown murderous. But
Florrie merely pursed her lips as her eyes followed Galloway down the
street.
"I just ask you, Virginia Page," she said at last, sinking back into
the wide arms of her chair with a sigh, "if a man with murder and all
kinds of sin on his soul could make love prettily?"
Virginia started.
"You don't mean . . ." she began quickly.
Florrie laughed, but the other girl noted wonderingly a fresher tint of
color in her cool cheeks.
"Goosey!" Florrie tossed her head, drew her skirts down modestly over
her white-stockinged ankles and laughed again. "He never held my hand
and all that. But with his eyes. Is there any law against a man
saying nice things with his eyes? And how is a girl going to stop him?"
Virginia might have replied that here was a matter which depended very
largely upon the girl herself; but instead, estimating that there was
little serious love-making on Galloway's part to be apprehended and
taking Florrie as lightly as Florrie took the rest of the world, she
was merely further amused.
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