She seemed now the vignette of a beautiful woman, missing the stateliness, perhaps, too, the distinction, but obtaining by very reason of what she missed a counterbalancing charm, to be appreciated only at close quarters, a charm of the quiet kind, diffused about her like a light; winsome--that was the epithet he applied to her, and remained doubtfully content with it, for there was a gravity too.
Clarice invited him to speak of Matanga, but Drake was reticent on the subject, through sheer disinclination to talk about himself, a disinclination which the girl recognised, and gave him credit for, shooting a comparing glance at Mallinson.
Mr.Le Mesurier, it should be said, remarked this reticence as well, and it gave him an idea.

From Matanga Drake led the conversation back to London, and they fell to discussing the play.
'You are very interested in it,' she said.
'Yes,' said he, 'I have never seen the play before.' 'I should hardly have thought it would have suited your taste,' Conway observed.
'Why?
It's French of course, but you can discount the sentiment.

There is a stratum of truth left, don't you think ?' Mallinson raised pitying shoulders.

'Of the ABC order perhaps,' he allowed.
'I am afraid it appeals to me all the more on that account,' Drake answered, with a genial laugh.

'But what I meant really was truth to those people--truth to the characters presumed.