She had every cue to hate hum.

Each moment of her life in England had been beset with peril because of him-peril to the man she loved, therefore peril to herself.

And yet, so various is the nature of woman, that, while steering straitly by one star, she levies upon the light of other stars.

Faithful and sincere, yet loving power, curious and adventurous, she must needs, without intention, without purpose, stray into perilous paths.
As Leicester stepped suddenly into Angele's gaze, she was only, as it were, conscious of a presence in itself alluring by virtue of the history surrounding it.

She was surprised out of an instinctive dislike, and the cue she had to loathe him was for the moment lost.
Unconsciously, unintentionally, she smiled at him now, then, realising, retreated, shrinking from him, her face averted.