His carelessness was strangely intriguing; he stood for adventure and all the romance she had known.
Besides, he was a handsome fellow; she liked his reckless twinkle and his coolness where coolness was needed.

For all that, she would not acknowledge him her lover; Barbara did not know if she really wanted a lover yet.

She imagined Cartwright had got near the mark when he said she wanted to try her power.

Cartwright was keen, although Barbara sensed something in him that was fierce and primitive.
Perhaps nobody else could have bullied Shillito; Mortimer certainly could not, but Barbara refused to speculate about the means Cartwright had used.
Shillito ought not to have gone without seeing her; this was where it hurt.

She was entitled to be angry--and then she started, for a page boy came quietly out of the shade.
"A note, miss," he said with a grin.