What sort of a man, then, was a woman to feel at ease with?
What eye, what mouth, what manner, what bearing was a woman to trust?
"Is that the kind of man you are, Mr.Siward ?" she said impulsively.
"It appears that I was; I don't know what I am--or may be." "The pity of it!" she said, still swayed by impulse.

"Why did you do--didn't you know--realize what you were doing--bringing discredit on your own club ?" "I was in no condition to know, Miss Landis." The crude brutality of the expression might merely have hurt or disgusted her had she been less intelligent.

Nor, as it was, did she fully understand why he chose to use it--unless that he meant it in self-punishment.
"It's rather shameful!" she said hotly.
"Yes," he assented; "it's a bad beginning." "A--beginning! Do you mean to go on ?" He did not reply; his head was partly turned from her.

She sat silent for a while.

The dog had returned to lie at Siward's feet, its brown eyes tirelessly watching the man it had chosen for its friend; and the man, without turning his eyes, dropped one hand on the dog's head, caressing the silky ears.
Some sentimentalist had once said that no man who cared for animals could be wholly bad.