It was not due to shyness: it was the inherent instinct of the Woman, a protective fear that she must retain some elements of mystery in order to hold the interest of the male. "Stow it, Nab!" exclaimed Quilt, angrily; "the kinchen's awake. “I wonder which of us enjoys that most,” said Capes—“does he, or do we?” “He seems to get a zest—” “He does it and forgets it. When she saw however that this man was a stranger, and obviously harmless, her expression changed as though by magic. . "Who isn't it like?" he asked, endeavouring to gain possession of the drawing, which, af the sound of his footstep, she crushed between her fingers.
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