“I have ample time then.  That will be all.”  The man retired noiselessly, closing the door after him, and West began slowly to dress, rather amused at the care he took, that all details should be as correct as possible.  Unquestionably the girl interested him oddly.  She was original, a new type, and he made no effort to drive her from his imagination.  He had not been long back from the war zone, his acquaintance in the city was extremely limited, and consequently this girl, thus suddenly brought into his life, had made a far greater impression than she might otherwise.  Yet under any conditions, she would have proven noticeable, and attractive.  He endeavoured to analyse what constituted this peculiar attractiveness, but without arriving at any definite conclusion.  She was young, of course, and undeniably pretty, with eyes really remarkable, and a smile not to be easily forgotten.  She possessed a sense of humour, and had left upon him a strong impression of frank sincerity.  Yet in these qualities she did not differ so greatly from others he had known.  Perhaps mystery had much to do with her power of enticement—­a continual wonderment as to what she might do next.  Then she was so self-poised, so confident of herself, so naturally informed.  All these things had their charm, and, coupled with her undoubted beauty, left his brain in a whirl.

He was satisfactorily dressed at last, although obliged to switch on the lights before this was accomplished.  The reflection of himself in the pier glass quite met his deliberate approval, and he glanced inquiringly at his watch, rather eager to delve deeper into this adventure.  It was a few moments of seven, and she would undoubtedly be waiting for him in the hall below.  He descended the broad stairs, conscious of a thrill of expectancy; nor was he doomed to disappointment.

Miss Coolidge met him in the dimly lighted vacancy of the hall, with smiling eyes of welcome.  They were mocking, puzzling eyes, the depths of which he could not fathom—­they perplexed, and invited at the same instant.  She was in evening dress, a creamy satin, revealing white shoulders, and rounded, beautifully mounded arms, visible beneath folds of filmy lace.  If he had dreamed the girl attractive before in the plainness of street costume, he now beheld her in a new vision of loveliness.  His heart throbbed at the sight, every nerve tingling to the intimate tones of her voice.  And she met him in a more delightful mood of informality than had found expression even during their afternoon ride.  She was apparently in the highest spirits, eager to overstep all conventionality.

“Again you please me,” she said, surveying him critically.  “Really this is too much, the wonderful way in which you meet every test.”

“You mean in clothes?”

“In everything, so far.  Clothes—­yes; do they not reveal the very soul of a man?  I hardly think I could ever have forgiven if you had come down not looking the part you are to play.”