she was cool and at ease beside Eric Hedon as they all went to dinner.
He was of just the height she liked in a man; he was quite as tall, if not taller, than Price Latham; but she discovered that, while she always was conscious of gazing up when she looked at Price, this man somehow spared her that feeling. At the table, where he was placed beside her, he did not consider it necessary to turn to her with each remark or reply and she took opportunity to study him.
He was not handsome in the definite, striking manner of Price Latham or of other men she often saw; but she wonderfully liked Eric Hedon's looks. He had firm lips, sensitive but with strength, a good nose and chin; his eyes—deep blue and always direct and expressive—particularly delighted her. His face was tanned brown and his hands also; these were excellently formed, well kept, unmanicured. The sun and exposure which had darkened his skin, had bleached his hair, but it was naturally light and bespoke, like his name, a descent from the boldest blood of northern Europe. A shield, a sword and an iron cap, Margaret said
