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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. ’ Gerald’s eyes never left the girl. Her secret thoughts made some hasty, half-hearted excursions into the possibility of telling the thing in romantic tones—Ramage was as a black villain, she as a white, fantastically white, maiden. Giving him a wide berth, and keeping her pistol high, she made her way to the door and warily peered through it. Lord, I am sixty. ’ A grimace crossed her face. ’ Gerald opened his eyes at her. Her father became much less distant towards his only daughter in the days that followed.
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