WHITEWASH
America instead. I've always wanted to see what it is like."
"If you do, Sonia, I'll give you the best time you ever had in all your life. As a country, well, I don't like to be unpatriotic—you'll be disappointed; but the people make up for it—they are the whitest in the world." The gray eyes looked unutterable admiration into space.
They reached the staircase after much wandering, and descended to the floor below, turned toward the main entrance, and came face to face with the plaided, knickerbockered young man, whose back had attracted their comment. Victoria, because of her bet, favored the stranger with a long comprehensive stare as he passed. He was undeniably handsome, with fine, regular features, yellow hair concealed by a gray cap, very black eyes and eyebrows that contrasted strangely with his light mustache. He walked gracefully in spite of a slight limp.
"He is English," Sonia asserted, when well out of earshot.
Victoria shook her head. "I don't think so. I'm sure I don't know why, but I don't."
