ad occasion to
notice) of so deep and black a black that the iris was indistinguishable
from the pupil, and this blackness limited the range of their expression.
They could only tell you what Flossie was feeling, never what she was
thinking; for thought requires a translucent medium, and the light of
Flossie's eyes was all on the surface. On the other hand, the turns
and movements of her body were always a sufficient indication of the
attitude of her mind. At the present moment, sitting on Keith's knee,
her pose was not one of pure complacency. But holding her there, that
little brown Beaver, his own unyielding virile body deliciously aware
of the strange, incredible softness of hers, he wondered whether it
were possible for him to feel anything but tender to a creature so
strangely and pathetically made. Positively she seemed to melt and
grow softer by sheer contact; and presently she smiled a sweet
diminutive smile that didn't uncover more than two of her little
white teeth.

"Oh, what a shame it is to treat a Beaver so!" said he.

"When are you going to take me for a nice walk?" said she. "Any time
before Christmas?"

"Perhaps. But you mustn't build on it."

"I don't see that I can build on anything at this rate."

"I suppose a Beaver can't be happy unless it's always building? That's
why some people say it hasn't any intelligence at all. They won't even
allow that it can build. They think its architectural talent is all a
delusion and a sham; because it builds in season and out of season.
Keep it in your study, and it will make a moat round the hearthrug
with tobacco pouches and manuscripts and boots--whatever it can lay
its hands on. It will even take the ideas out of a man's head, if it
can't find anything better. Is there any logic in an animal that can
do that?" And if Flossie did not understand the drift of these remarks
at least she seemed to understand the kisses that punctuated them.

But before very long he obtained more light on the Beaver's logic, and
owned that it was singularly sound. They managed to put in a great
many nice walks between that Sunday and Christmas. Whenever he could
spare time Rickman made a point of meeting Flossie at the end of her
day's work. He generally waited at the corner where the long
windowless wall of the Bank stretches along Prince's Street, iron and
implacable. It was too cold now to sit under the shadow of St. Paul's.
Sometimes they would walk home along Holborn, so