Jim was sleeping with his mouth a little open.

Now he was a sturdy straw-haired man of thirty, with a rather hard mouth and a supercilious manner.

Her face was sad and lovely with bright things in it, bright eyes and a bright passionate mouth, but there was an excitement in her voice that men who had cared for her found difficult to forget: a singing compulsion, a whispered “Listen,” a promise that she had done gay, exciting things just a while since and that there were gay, exciting things hovering in the next hour.