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Sykes' best room. Yet there it was. It was the eyes, perhaps.
The doctor admitted that they were peculiar eyes, startlingly blue. Dark
blue in the shade of the lashes, flashing out light blue fire when the
lashes lifted. But Mrs. Sykes' boarder did not want to think about eyes.
He wanted to go to sleep. He did not want to think about hair either.
Although Miss Coombe had very nice hair--cloudy hair, with little ways
of growing about the temple and at the curve of the neck which a blind
man could not help noticing. In the peaceful shadows of the room it
seemed a still softer shadow framing the vivid girlish face.
Still, on the whole, sleep would have been better company and when at
last he did drop off he did not relish being wakened by the voice of Ann
at his door.
"Doc-ter, doc-ter! Are you awake? Can I come in?"
"I am not awake. Go away."
Ann's giggle came clearly through the keyhole.
"You've got a visitor," she whispered piercingly through the same
medium. "A man. A well man, not a sick one. He came on the train.


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