The Safety Pin by J.S. Fletcher

Miss Pretty, left to meditate in her private sitting room at the Chancellor, was conscious that this last interview with Simmons had been rather pleasant. She thought that for a youth of his age Simmons had a way with him which induced liking. She had felt quite a thrill when he held her hand: the suggestion of a walk with him in romantic regions had appealed to something in her--unmistakably: already she was looking forward to Sunday. Business like young woman as she believed herself to be, she was also disposed to sentiment, and by no means disinclined for love making. She stood for some time by the mantelpiece, mechanically fingering its ornaments and staring abstractedly at each in turn; in reality she was thinking about Simmons, and wondering if he might not be what she thought of as a nice boy. She continued to think--and by the time she went to bed she had decided that Simmons had a brainy forehead, the, his hair was in reality an unusual and attractive auburn, and that his eyes, even though set rather close, were of a pleasing steel-blue colour.

"And certainly he's clever, and speaks well, and dresses well," mused Miss Pretty. "And he has ambition and says he means to win high. Quite a nice fellow, really!--much nicer than that stiff and proper Shelmore. And if--"