"You are a pretty thing anyway."
"Oh, do you really think so?"
"I know it."
"You are making fun of me. If you had met me accidentally, would you have thought so?"
"Surely; my eyes are always open to the truth."
"If I could meet such a man as you are I could love him—'with a dreaminess of eye not characteristic of this strong, pragmatic family.'"
She broke away from him, but he caught her. "If I were not related to you," he said, "I would be tempted to kiss you."
"Oh, you'd be tempted to kiss me, would you? If you were not related to me I wouldn't let you, but as it is—there!"
His blood tingled. Her hair was falling about her shoulders. For a moment it was a strife for him to believe that she was his sister.
"Beautiful," he said, running his fingers through her hair. "Somebody said that the glory of a woman is her hair; and it is true. It is a glory that always catches me."