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He
forgave the lips, recalling only the eyes.
With his hand still pressed against the porch railing, the young man
suddenly recalled Biff Farnham, his cool gray eyes as instantly
hardening, his lips pressed together. What possible part in the dusk
of the shadowed past did that disreputable gambler play? What
connection could he hold, either in honor or dishonor, with the
previous life history of Beth Norvell? He did not in the least doubt
her, for it was Winston's nature to be entirely loyal, to be
unsuspicious of those he once trusted. Yet he could not continue
completely blind. That there once existed some connection it was
impossible to ignore entirely. Her laughing, yet clearly embarrassed,
attempt at explanation had not in the slightest deceived him, for
beyond it remained her quick surprise at that earliest unexpected
mention of the man's name, the suddenly blanched cheeks, the
unconcealed fright revealed by the dark eyes. The full truth was to be
read there, and not in her later more deliberate attempt at leading his
suspicions astray.


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