I did not want to talk about my history, especially to a girl like her.

I suppose she saw my disinclination, for as I handed her the card with the wool neatly wound on it, she thanked me and presently changed the subject, or at least shifted the ground.
"There is something so free about the life of an adventurer--I mean a man who wanders about doing brave things.

If I were a man I would be an adventurer like you." "Not half so much of an adventurer, as you call it, as our friend who went off this morning." It was the first mention of Isaacs since his departure.

I had said the thing inadvertently, for I would not have done anything to increase her trouble for the world.

She leaned back, dropping her hands with her work in her lap, and stared straight out through the doorway, as pale as death--pale as only fair-skinned people are when they are ill, or hurt.
She sat quite still.