She could play the piano far better than his sisters at home, and with far finer appreciation--the piano that poor Hughie had so heroically laboured over to keep in condition.

And when she strummed the guitar and sang liquid, velvety Hawaiian _hulas_, he sat entranced.

Then she was all woman, and the magic of sex kidnapped the irritations of the day and made him forget the big revolver, the Baden-Powell, and all the rest.

But what right, the next thought in his brain would whisper, had such a girl to swagger around like a man and exult that adventure was not dead?
Woman that adventured were adventuresses, and the connotation was not nice.

Besides, he was not enamoured of adventure.