The silence became lengthy.

She was conscious of something in the atmosphere that made her vaguely uneasy.

Was it a cat he resembled, crouching there in front of her?
No, there was nothing domestic about him though she had a feeling that he could purr when he was pleased.
Yes, there was undoubtedly something feline about him, a supple grace, a noiselessness, a guile, that made her aware of the necessity for caution in her dealings with him.

This was a man of many subtleties--she knew it instinctively--a man of tigerish temperament, harmless as a kitten in sunshine, merciless as a fiend in storm.

Yes, he was certainly like a tiger, forcible even in repose.