Ware, on his part, saw a girl, bright and dimpling, perusing him with eyes that coruscated with sophistication and wariness--armed cap-a-pie in every virile nerve and muscle--not a bit timorous, but flashingly on guard, with every faculty at its sentry-post. He saw a girl whose lashes twinkled irrepressibly, and whose lips had to be pressed hard against the smile-impulse. He saw a girl, whose regal color and roundness and poise, and clear eyes and skin were a proclamation of health and vigor that he who ran might read. He saw a girl whom many little uncouthnesses of manner and attire showed "green" and undeveloped--in short, susceptible of tillage as a bit of wild but fertile garden-ground. "I'm going to marry you, you know," he said, quietly, with no more preface than the friendliest of all smiles. There! It was out--said as Sir William had long ago decided he would say it--without preamble, smoothly, quietly, as though it were a thing that had been arranged ages ago, and he were simply reminding her of it. Ware watched the girl's face with keen curiosity--his glance steady, but so pleasant withal, that Daisy did not find it disconcerting. The girl looked back at him--her face first shortening and dimpling to a half-smile; then lengthening to sobriety; then gathering and dimpling again, and remaining so, because that was Daisy Nixon's natural expression. Daisy knew nothing about hypnotic suggestion. All she knew was that she seemed surrounded by some queer influence. She seemed--to put it the way it presented itself to her--as though she had stepped into a book or a moving-picture or a dream. Sir William stepped to her side, crooked his arm, drew hers through it. "Shall we have a cup of coffee, somewhere?" he said; adding in droll answer to his own invitation, "Yes, we shall, shan't we, my dear?" Daisy, feeling as though she had temporarily become twins--one twin going along quite naturally and unquestioningly by this queer stranger's side, and the other, agog with merry curiosity, following along to see how the adventure was going to turn out--was conscious of a short walk under the city's arc-lights, an entry into a cafe on the ground floor of a great and handsome apartment-block, a side-turn into a curtained alcove, and a half involuntary sitting-down into a chair pushed adroitly behind her by a waiter in full dress and with an uncanny plaster-cast face. A table, with linen, shining silver, and cut-glass was between the quiescent twin of her queer dual self and her companion. The other twin of her, seemed to stand a bit aside, twinkling and vigilant. Sir William, without looking at the menu the waiter held before him, gave a brisk order. As the attendant moved smoothly and quickly away, Ware filled two of the shining glasses in the centre of the table with ice-water, clinked them together, and passed one to Daisy.