"Well, come in for just a moment!"
And the parlor being occupied, they went to her room.
"Is Your Honor really going to spare me ten minutes from the fascinating Sada Quichy?" she said, pouting, once arrived.
"Ten hours, if you like!" he said, taking off his coat with a gesture of finality.
She was so delighted at this unhoped-for treason that she clapped her hands like a child, not perceiving how he had made her ask each time for what he really wanted.
"You're really going to stay?"
"Yes, indeed!"
"How exciting!"
She let her coat slip into his hands, and going to the mirror, raised her hat slowly from her rebellious golden curls with one of those indescribable, intimate, feminine gestures that have such allurement to the gaze of men. If, with Blainey, she had resorted to abrupt and dashing ways, with Massingale she felt herself wholly feminine, sure that each turn of her head, line of her body, or caressing movement of her arms would find appreciation.
She looked at him a moment over her shoulder, arching her eyebrows with eyes that seemed brimming with caprice.