She had asked to borrow his pencil out of dire necessity. Jack submitted to this scrutiny with a very bad grace, and vehemently protested his innocence. But the rise of the chest was quite perceptible now. There he sat, cheerfully friendly in his sex’s freedom—the man she loved, the one man she cared should unlock the way to the wide world for her imprisoned feminine possibilities, and he seemed regardless that she stifled under his eyes; he made a jest of all this passionate insurgence of the souls of women against the fate of their conditions. Every drop of blood in her body glowed and expanded. “I believe after all it’s coming out!” said Miss Stanley. Wood's reply, if he intended any, was cut short by a loud knocking at the door. Then her white teeth gleamed, and her excuse for remaining any longer before that little marble table was gone.
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