She tried not to blush. Wood, whose admiration for masculine beauty was by no means abated, glanced at the well-proportioned figure of the young man, and made him a very civil salutation. She moved forward almost indiscernibly, a millimeter. It seemed to show a want of affection, to be a deliberate and unmerited disregard, to justify the reprisal of being hurt. Later on I could scarcely have forgiven you. It’s the public entrance. There’s something—puppyish in a man’s usual attitude to women. They looked out over the city, grim and silent now, for it was long past midnight.
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