Nevertheless her twenty-four years of life had given her a look of reserve.

Her hand, which lay on the ground, the fingers curling slightly in, was well shaped and competent; the square-tipped and nervous fingers were the fingers of a musician.

With something like anguish Hewet realised that, far from being unattractive, her body was very attractive to him.

She looked up suddenly.

Her eyes were full of eagerness and interest.
"You write novels ?" she asked.
For the moment he could not think what he was saying.