at look in your eyes--that look as if you hadn't nothin' to hide--is it
true? Is it natural, as you might say, or do you just put it on?"

Her astonished expression led him to explain.

"It's like lookin' down deep into water that's so clear you can see the
sand shinin' in the bottom; one of these places where there's no mud or
black spots; nothin' you can't see or understand. _Sabe_ what I mean?"

Since she did not answer, he continued:

"I've met up with women before now that had that same look, but only at
first. It didn't last; they could put it on and take it off like they did
their hats."

"I don't know that I am quite sure what you mean," the girl replied,
embarrassed by the personal nature of his questions and comments; "but if
you mean to imply that I affect this or that expression, for a purpose,
you misjudge me."

"I was just askin'," said Smith.

"I think I am always honest of purpose," the girl went on slowly, "and
when one is that, I think it shows in one's eyes. To be sure, I often fall
short of my intentions. I mean to do right, and almost as frequently do
wrong."

"You do?" He eyed her with quick intentness.

"Yes, don't you? Don't all of us?"

"I does what I aims to do," he replied ambiguously.

So she--this girl with eyes like two deep springs--did wrong--frequently.
He pondered the admission for a long time. Smith's exact ideas of right
and wrong would have been difficult to define; the dividing line, if there
were any, was so vague that it had never served as the slightest
restraint. "To do what you aim to do, and make a clean get-away"--that was
the successful life.

He had seen things, it is true; there had been incidents and situations
which had repelled him, but why, he had never asked himself. There was one
situation in particular to which his mind frequently reverted, as it did
now. He had known worse women than the one who had figured in it, but for
some reason this single scene was impressed upon his mind with a vividness
which seemed never to grow less.

He saw a woman seated at an old-fashioned organ in a country parlor. There
was a rag-carpet on the floor--he remembered how springy it was with the
freshly laid straw underneath it. Her husband held a lamp that she might
see the notes, while his other hand was upon her shoulder, his adoring
eyes upon her silly face. He, Smith, was rocking in the blue plush chair
for which the fool with the calloused hands had done extra work