Her dusky black hair was like a crown over her stooping face;
her left elbow and hand lay on the desk; and the moving pen in her
other hand pointed straight at the right shoulder, exactly as Dale had
taught her to point it when she first began to imitate his
copper-plate writing. She had been an apt pupil, and there was no
mistake about the help she gave him nowadays. At the beginning he used
to pretend a little, saying that her aid lightened his labors, merely
to encourage and please her.
"Now stop, lassie. This is what Mr. Osborn terms blind man's holiday.
Shut the book."
"I should have liked to finish," said Norah.
Nevertheless she obeyed him, closing the book and putting her papers
in a drawer.
"Look here, if you _must_ be busy to the last moment, come over here
nearer the light and address these envelopes for me--and I'll have a
pipe."
Norah came meekly to the window and took the chair that Dale had
vacated for her. Standing close behind the chair and looking down upon
her, he noticed the deft way in which her hands gathered the loose
envelopes and stacked them; the shapeliness of her arms and
shoulders; and the ivory whiteness of her cheek. It was the fading
light that produced this effect, because she was not by any means a
pale girl.
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