” He put his hands in his pockets, his mouth puckered to a whistle, and he went to the door of the outer preparation-room and stood there, looking, save for the faintest intensification of his natural ruddiness, the embodiment of blond serenity. And now her mind was so full of the thought that she was in love—in love!—that marvellous state! that I really believe she had some dim idea of talking to him about it. There was a brief pause, a crowded pause, between them. She dared not look directly at him, her head obscured by a gray hoodie, she had the slumped appearance of an androgynous adolescent. ” She took the pocket-book and looked up at him with a little impulsive movement. ‘But what is it that amuses you, Jacques?’ Kimble’s grin spread wider.
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