He wouldn't like me to wear her gowns." "In the name of Heaven," demanded Kenny, shocked, "why not?
It's a beautiful thing--like the play-acting of a dryad!" "My mother," said the girl in a low voice, "was on the stage." Her challenging eyes, big and wistful, fanned his chivalry into reckless flame.

The need of the hour was peculiar.

There was little room for fact.

In a moment of wayward impulse he had slipped up a stairway and blundered on a shrine.

He must not make another mistake.
The girl beside him was as timorous and defensive as a doe scenting an alien breath in the wood of wild things.