She never for a moment overlooked the fact that she was a woman, and beautiful.

She did not allow him to forget it either.
Her mood of outraged virtue was now suddenly thrown into the background by a phase of open coquetry.

Beneath her eyelids she watched for the effect of her pretty, provoking attitude on the man who loved her.

She was on her own territory at this work, playing her own game; and she was more alarmed by De Chauxville's imperturbability than by any thing he had said.
"You have a strange way of proving the truth of your own statements." "What statements ?" She gave a little laugh.

Her attitude, her glance, the cunning display of a perfect figure, the laugh, the whole woman, was the incarnation of practised coquetry.