The contrast between the dead
white calm of his face, the listlessness of his relaxed
figure, and these vivid eyes, so intensely alive, gave to
Donald Keith's personality an uncanniness that was
most disagreeable to Mildred.
``That's what fascinates me,'' said Cyrilla, when they
were discussing him one day.
``Fascinates!'' exclaimed Mildred. ``He's tiresome--
when he isn't rude.''
``Rude?''
``Not actively rude but, worse still, passively rude.''
``He is the only man I've ever seen with whom I could
imagine myself falling in love,'' said Mrs. Brindley.
Mildred laughed in derision. ``Why, he's a dead
man!'' cried she.
``You don't understand,'' said Cyrilla. ``You've
never lived with a man.'' She forgot completely, as did
Mildred herself, so completely had Mrs. Siddall returned
to the modes and thoughts of a girl. ``At home--to
live with--you want only reposeful things. That is
why the Greeks, whose instincts were unerring, had so
much reposeful statuary. One grows weary of agitating
objects.
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