She was probably twenty-eight years of age; her manner was that of a woman rather than of a girl--of one who was in life and not on the outskirts.
"We rather pride ourselves," she said, leading the way into the drawing-room, "upon having the best house in Loango.

You will, I think, be more comfortable here than anywhere." She turned and looked at him with a slow, grave smile.

She was noticing that, of the men who had been in this drawing-room, none had seemed so entirely at his ease as this one.
"I must ask you to believe that I was thinking of your comfort and not of my own." "Yes, I know you were," she answered.

"Our circle is rather limited, as you will find, and very few of the neighbours have time to think of their houses.

Most of them are missionaries, and they are so busy; they have a large field, you see." "Very--and a weedy one, I should think." He was looking round, noting with well-trained glance the thousand little indescribable touches that make a charming room.