Yet there was always a pleasant, warm naivete about him, that made him attractive.
'I'm not afwaid of anything except black-beetles,' said the Pussum, looking up suddenly and staring with her black eyes, on which there seemed an unseeing film of flame, fully upon Gerald.

He laughed dangerously, from the blood.

Her childish speech caressed his nerves, and her burning, filmed eyes, turned now full upon him, oblivious of all her antecedents, gave him a sort of licence.
'I'm not,' she protested.

'I'm not afraid of other things.

But black-beetles--ugh!' she shuddered convulsively, as if the very thought were too much to bear.
'Do you mean,' said Gerald, with the punctiliousness of a man who has been drinking, 'that you are afraid of the sight of a black-beetle, or you are afraid of a black-beetle biting you, or doing you some harm ?' 'Do they bite ?' cried the girl.
'How perfectly loathsome!' exclaimed Halliday.
'I don't know,' replied Gerald, looking round the table.