No matter how pleasing his experience had been, he resented the idea of being commandeered at unexpected moments.

Had Mary Standish read his thoughts, her bearing toward him during the dinner hour could not have been more satisfying.
There was, in a way, something seductively provocative about it.

She greeted him with the slightest inclination of her head and a cool little smile.

Her attitude did not invite spoken words, either from him or from his neighbors, yet no one would have accused her of deliberate reserve.
Her demure unapproachableness was a growing revelation to him, and he found himself interested in spite of the new law of self-preservation he had set down for himself.

He could not keep his eyes from stealing glimpses at her hair when her head was bowed a little.