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A melancholy pool had already begun forming about his feet.
The maddening, but yet--though she hadn't much room for any other
emotion--touching thing about the look of him, was the way his face,
above the dismal wreck, beamed good-humored innocent affection at her.
It was a big featured, strong, rosy face, and the unmistakable
intellectual power of it, which became apparent the moment he got his
faculties into action, had a trick of hiding, at other times, behind a
mere robust simplicity.
"Good gracious!" he said. "I didn't know you were going to have a
party."
It seemed though, he didn't want to make an issue of that. He hedged. "I
know you said something about a birthday cake, but I thought it would
just be the family. So instead of dressing, I thought I'd walk down from
home. It takes about the same time. And then it came on to rain, so I
took a street-car--and got put off."
It appeared from the way she echoed his last two words that she wanted
an explanation. He was painting with a large brush and a few details got
obliterated.


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