She imagined that her own demeanour was no less direct and unconstrained than that of the philosopher himself; in reality, the difference was considerable.

Though several years older than Dyce--her age being thirty-four--she showed nothing of the seniority in her manner towards him, which, for all its impulsiveness, had a noticeable deference, at moments something of subdued homage.
"You don't mean to say you have bad news ?" she exclaimed, palpitating.
"You, too ?" "Why, then _you_ have something of the same kind to tell me ?" said Dyce, gazing at her anxiously.
"Tell me your's first--please do!" "No.

It's nothing very important.

So say what you've got to say, and be quick about it--come!" Mrs.Woolstan's bosom rose and fell rapidly as she collected her thoughts.

Unconventional as were the terms in which Lashmar addressed her, they carried no suggestion of an intimacy which passed the limits of friendship.