Then her dancing eyes sought the face of Jeffrey Masters. Her smile
remained, but a subtle something crept into their depths as she
surveyed it. It was the handsome, clean-cut face of a purposeful man.
There was a straight-forward directness in the gaze of his blue eyes.
It was the face of a man who has no fear, physical or moral. It was
almost too uncompromising in its fearlessness.
Nan knew its every line by heart. She had thought of it, dreamed of
it, since the time when she had first realized that a woman's life is
wholly incomplete without the care of a man upon her hands. Sometimes
she had felt that Jeffrey Masters possessed depths which could never be
fathomed. Depths of strength, of resource, and all those qualities
which make for success. Sometimes she even went further, when her
analytical faculties--which she possessed in an unusual degree--were
most active. She felt that the possession of all these firm qualities
had rather smothered, to an extent, the gentler emotions of the human
nature in him.
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