" Instead of the tam-o'-shanter she wore a big
drooping hat of brown, which just matched the curls that were loosely
tied at the back of her neck.
Sandy stood motionless and humbly adored her. He was a born lover,
lavishing his affection, without discrimination or calculation, upon
whatever touched his heart. It surely was no harm just to stand aside
and look. He liked the way she carried her head; he liked the way her
eyes went up a little at the outer corners, and the round, soft curve
of her chin. She was gazing steadfastly ahead of her down the
gang-plank, and he ventured a step nearer and continued his
observations. As he did so, he made a discovery. The soft white of her
cheek was gradually becoming pinker and pinker; the color which began
under her lace collar stole up and up until it reached her eyes,
which still gazed determinedly before her.
Sandy admired it as a traveler admires a sunrise, and with as little
idea of having caused it.
The line of passengers moved slowly forward, and his heart sank.
Suddenly his eyes fell upon the little hand-bag which she carried. On
one end, in small white letters, was: "Ruth Nelson, Kentucky, U.S.A."
He watched her until she was lost to view, then he turned eagerly back
into the crowd.
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