There came a wild rush of anthropological lore into her brain, a flare of indecorous humor. “Forgive me,” he decided to say at last, and his voice had a little quiver of emotion, and he laid his hand on hers upon her knee. She moved her elbow nearer to him and spoke in a still lower tone. “Steady on!” he cried. She was standing before a window, against the background of the rain-burdened April sky. O'Higgins know the truth; he wouldn't be reckless with the funds, then. Evidently he was gazing at the dull red roofs of the city: but was he registering what he saw? Never glance sideways at man, the old Kanaka woman had said.
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