She gave him but a cursory
glance, in which no interest was apparent, and glided quietly into the
little nook behind the counter, almost at his elbow. His heart enjoyed a
lively thump. Here was the first noticeably good-looking woman he had
seen in Edelweiss, and, by the powers, she was a sword-maker's niece!
The old man looked sharply at him for an instant, and a quick little
smile writhed in and out among the mass of wrinkles. Instead of passing
directly out of the shop, Spantz stopped a moment to give the girl some
suddenly recalled instruction. Truxton King, you may be sure, did not
precede the old man into the street. He deliberately removed his hat and
waited most politely for age to go before youth, in the meantime blandly
gazing upon the face of this amazing niece.
Across the square, at one of the tables, he awaited his chance and a
plausible excuse for questioning the old man without giving offence.
Somewhere back in his impressionable brain there was growing a distinct
hope that this beautiful young creature with the dreamy eyes was
something more than a mere shopgirl. It had occurred to him in that one
brief moment of contact that she had the air, the poise of a true
aristocrat.
The old man, over his huge mug of beer, was properly grateful.
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