"Not a
particle of superfluous fat, but good, solid structure, I should say. One
wouldn't want to try to pass you against your will, in a narrow alley, on
a dark night."
"It strikes me you could glide by me in the shadow and never attract my
attention," Burns replied, his keen eyes on his friend's face. "The
difference between us is that every inch of you represents concentrated
energy, while my plant spreads all over the landscape without producing
half as much power."
Leaver smiled. There was both strength and sweetness in his smile, but
there was depression in it also. "That sounds like you," he said. "I
suppose many men envy other men the possession of some supposed source of
efficiency. Just now I find myself envying you your home--and its
occupants. What a delightful room."
He turned to his hostess and her friend. While they talked together Burns
regarded Amy Mathewson, his long-time associate, with renewed wonder, and
presently found himself addressing her from an entirely new point of
view. This fair girl with the graceful head and the glowing blue eyes
could not possibly be the sedate young woman who was accustomed to hand
him instruments and sutures, ligate arteries, and attend to various minor
matters from the other side of his operating-table. He wondered why he
had never before noticed how much real individuality she possessed, nor
how really attractive she was of face and person.
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