They looked with a kindly expression for
moment at the Crittenden children and then turned back to their gaze on
the flower-bud.
Nelly Powers, walking with a singular lightness for so tall a woman,
ushered in another group of visitors--a tall, unshaven farmer, his wife,
three little children clumping in on shapeless cow-hide boots, and a
baby, fast asleep, its round bonneted head tucked in the hollow of its
mother's gingham-clad shoulder. They sat down, nodding silent greetings
to the other neighbors. In turning to salute them, Marise caught a
glimpse of Mr. Marsh, fixing his brilliant scrutiny first on one and
then on another of the company. At that moment he was gazing at Nelly
Powers, "taking her in" thought Marise, from her beautiful hair to those
preposterously high-heeled shoes she always would wear on her shapely
feet. His face was impassive. When he looked neutral like that, the
curious irregularity of his features came out strongly. He looked like
that bust of Julius Caesar, the bumpy, big-nosed, strong-chinned one,
all but that thick, closely cut, low-growing head of dark hair.
She glanced at Mr. Welles, and was surprised to find that he was looking
neither at the people nor the plant. His arm was around his favorite
Paul, but his gaze seemed turned inward, as though he were thinking of
something very far away.
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