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The young man was of the most extraordinary beauty—not only of face, but of figure, for he was as lithe and active as a cat, but his conspicuous feature was his eyes—eyes of the clearest sky blue, in surprising contrast to his bronzed skin and black hair and lashes. He was clean-shaven, so that a mouth of sensitive curves could be seen, and a chin that contradicted those curves by its firm aggression.

​"You don't really think it nice to be vulgar," Mrs. Rolles went on, "if for no other reason than because it is the one thing that Susie and I can't forgive."

"Well, if I can forgive Susie her refinement, I think she ought to be able to forgive me a nice little trace of vulgarity. We shall do very well. She can teach me to be refined and a touch of my vulgarity will improve her immensely."

Mrs. Rolles shook her head. "You would be the last person to find it an improvement," she said.

Bevans struck the tea-table lightly with his fist. "Now that's where you're wrong," he said. "I really can't see that refinement is anything but a weakness; it seems to consist entirely in things you can't do. Susie can't go out without a maid, she can't go in a trolley-car, she can't wear ready-made clothes—all liabilities. Tell me one single positive thing that her being a lady enables her to do."