Entering the workshop, he found the blacksmith occupied in heating the tire of a cart wheel. He was a young man of about two-and-twenty, who, without having anything remarkable either in dress or appearance, was yet a noticeable person, if only for the indescribable expression of cunning pervading his countenance. A jar of pink roses upon a tiny table seemed to gain an extra delicacy of colour from the sombre curtains behind. It was her foster brother Mike, on his way to the bathroom. ’ For a moment or two there was dead silence in the parlour. And she had been doubting since that walk in the Zoological Gardens whether, indeed, he did simply care for her.
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