For it seemed plain that here was no coquette by intention or by any knowledge of the art of pleasing men; but she was one, nevertheless, so sweetly her dark eyes regarded you when you spoke; so lovely the glimmer of her smile.
And it was, no doubt, something of these that men noticed—and her youth and inexperience, which is tender tinder to hardened flint that is ever eager to strike fire and start soft stuff blazing.
CHAPTER XII
THE SHAPE IN WHITE
We breakfasted on soupaan, new milk, johnnycake, and troutlings caught by Colas, who had gone by canoe to the outlet of Hans' Creek by daylight, after I had awakened him. Which showed me how easily one could escape from the Summer House, in spite of guards patrolling the neck and mainland road.
We were four at table; Lady Johnson, Claudia, Penelope, and I; and all seemed to be in better humour, for Claudia's bright eyes were ever roaming toward the Continental camp, where smart officers passed and repassed in the bright sunlight; and Lady Johnson did not conceal her increasing conviction that Sir John had got clean away; which, naturally, pleased the poor child mightily;—and Penelope, who had offered very simply to serve us at table, sat silent and contented by the civil usage she received from Polly Johnson, who told her very sweetly that her place was in a chair and not behind it.
"For," said my lady, "a parson's daughter may serve where her heart directs, but is nowise or otherwise to be unclassed."
"Were I obliged by circumstances to labour for my bread," said Claudia, "would you still entertain honourable though ardent sentiments toward me, Jack?"
Which saucy question I smiled aside, though it irritated me, and oddly, too, because Penelope Grant had heard—though why I should care a farthing for that I myself could not understand.