“No funny business?”

“No funny business.”

The word, “pity,” flitted through her head and was gone before she could be sure it had ever been there. The man across the table was regarding her with kindly amusement. His eyes were warm and suddenly she felt as though the two of them were the only people left in the world. She wondered why she hadn't realized before just how handsome he was.

She seemed to see him more clearly than before, and it occurred to her that he was two different men. He had the body of an athlete, broad shouldered, tall and powerful, as though his whole frame had been made hard and taut by a life in the outdoors. His hands were a rare combination of size and grace, as though he could hold anything in them, with no appearance of effort.

Yet his face told a different story. It was lean, almost austere, with fine features and dark, expressive eyes: the face of a thinker, a scholar, perhaps a poet. This was something Dottie had never seen in her life before, yet she recognized it at once, and felt a faint stir of response.

Then she laughed at herself. What could she do with a man like this? A man she couldn't read.

“Are you a soldier?” she asked impulsively.

“Why do you ask?”

“Just…something about you,” she said helplessly. Life in a family with a small vocabulary hadn't left her equipped for this. ventured

“I did a stint in the army,” he said truthfully. It had been part of his training.

“But not anymore? I mean, you didn't want to make a career of it?”

“No, but it's not impossible that I might return,” he said with a wry grimace. She made no answer and he saw a vague look in her eyes, as though she had gone into a trance. “Dottie?”

She came back to earth. She'd been watching his mouth, the way the lips moved against each other as he spoke, or used them expressively.