She had been taught to see things with her own eyes and not another's, and she spoke of them as she saw them; that was all.

Yet never but to her mother had Guida said so much to any human being as within these past few moments to Philip d'Avranche.
The conditions were almost maliciously favourable, and d'Avranche was simple and easy as a boy, with his sailor's bonhomie and his naturally facile spirit.

A fateful adaptability was his greatest weapon in life, and his greatest danger.

He saw that Guida herself was unconscious of the revelation she was making, and he showed no surprise, but he caught the note of her simplicity, and responded in kind.

He flattered her deftly--not that she was pressed unduly, he was too wise for that.