She offered her hand to Mills very frankly as to an old friend.

Within the extraordinarily wide sleeve, lined with black silk, I could see the arm, very white, with a pearly gleam in the shadow.

But to me she extended her hand with a slight stiffening, as it were a recoil of her person, combined with an extremely straight glance.

It was a finely shaped, capable hand.

I bowed over it, and we just touched fingers.