"Despite the color of my hair and eyes—you have no fear of—Peter
Smith?"
"None!"
"Because—he is neither fierce nor wild nor masterful!"
"Because he is neither fierce nor wild," she echoed.
"Nor masterful!" said I.
"Nor masterful!" said Charmian, with averted head. So I opened the door, but, even then, must needs turn back again.
"Do you think I am so very—different—from him?"
"As different as day from night, as the lamb from the wolf," said she, without looking at me. "Good night, Peter!"
"Good night!" said I, and so, going into my room, I closed the door behind me.
"A lamb!" said I, tearing off my neckcloth, and sat, for some time listening to her footstep and the soft rustle of her petticoats going to and fro.