His mind seemed to be a remarkably full one; his knowledge of detailed reality came in just where her own mind was most weakly equipped. The voices went into his ears but left no impression of their import. The image in the glass was not clear, for the light was not bright enough to see properly, but the shadows of her riding habit and the hat with its waving plumes framed a countenance that gazed serenely back at her out of long-lashed blue eyes. He saw the colossal selfishness of his act; but he could not beg off on the plea of abnormality. She never questioned the motives of the characters; she had neither the ability nor the conceit for that; but she could and often did correct his lapses in colour. ’ Trodger frowned, and chewed his lip. On a stool eight feet high sat a small boy in a faded blue cotton, his face like that of young Buddha. “It is, if anything, a little above the average,” Brendon admitted.
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