THE SILVER FOX 115 



less as a blind puppy, and philosophy is not 

 born at all, but is built, with infinite self- 

 consciousness. 



She was already on the engine — it was 

 moving ; she was holding on to an iron rail 

 as she stood, and was not unaware that it 

 was spoiling her gloves. Major Bunbury's 

 conversation with the engine-driver had 

 ended with an almost imperceptible glide of 

 the hitter's hand into his trousers pocket, 

 and Major Bunbury himself was standing 

 beside Slaney in the cramped space avail- 

 able for them, looking preternaturally 

 cheerful and unaffected. He possessed that 

 gift of trivial observation that is the parent 

 of tact and is one of the rarest of male 

 attributes. It can be formidable, it can 

 also be attractive beyond most other things. 

 He hardly looked at Slaney, who was gazing 

 straight ahead through the bull's-eye win- 

 dows, but he knew that what she saw was 

 not so much the wide tumbling waste of 

 moor with its skirting mountains, as the 

 creations of her own unsophisticated sua- 



