Sanderson was certain it was that continual effort of the muscles of
the lips that gave to his mouth its humorous expression.
The man was not over five feet and two or three inches tall, and
crowning his slender body was a head that was entirely out of
proportion to the rest of him. He was not repulsive-looking, however,
and a glance at his eyes convinced Sanderson that anything Providence
had taken from his body had been added, by way of compensation, to his
intellect.
Sanderson found it hard to resent the man's seeming impertinence. He
grinned reluctantly at him.
"Did I tell you you'd hurt my feelin's?" he inquired. "What oven do
you think I had my head in?"
"I didn't say," grinned the little man. "There's places that are
hotter than an oven. And if a man has never been a wolf with women, it
might be expected that he'd feel sort of warm to be kissed and fussed
over by a sister he's not seen for a good many years. He'd seem like a
stranger to her--almost."
Sanderson's eyes glowed with a new interest in the little man.
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