"There's no need to lock the door," Pansy said.
"It's on your account, not mine. A little incident of this sort won't damage my reputation."
"I'd forgotten about my reputation," she said, a note of concern in her voice. "I only thought about giving you a surprise."
"It is. A most delightful one, too. In fact, I don't think I've ever experienced anything quite so delightful and unexpected," he responded drily.
He crossed to the bed, and stood looking at the girl with a critical, appreciative air. And Pansy looked at him with candid, friendly gaze, taking stock of him equally.
He struck her as being remarkably good-looking, but his expression was too arrogant, his mouth too hard; it even had a suspicion of cruelty. He had an air, too, of having ridden rough-shod over people all his days. In spite of his well-groomed, well-bred appearance, there was a suggestion of the wild about him, as if he had never been properly broken in.
There was a brief silence as the two surveyed one another.
Le Breton was the first to speak, and his remark was of a critical nature.
"Why do you wear your hair short? It would suit you far better long, as a woman's hair ought to be."
"I like it short. It's less trouble."