She looks up at him, and then down again, and trifles with the fan she has taken back from him, and finally laughs again; something in her laugh this time, however, puzzles him.
"You don't like him ?" hazards he.

"After all, I suppose it is hardly natural that a ward _should_ like her guardian." "Yes?
And _why ?"_ asks Perpetua, still smiling, still apparently amused.
"For one thing, the sense of restraint that belongs to the relations between them.

A guardian, you know, would be able to control one in a measure." "Would he ?" "Well, I imagine so.

It is traditionary.

And you ?" "I don't know about _other_ people," says Miss Wynter, calmly, "I know only this, that nobody ever yet controlled _me,_ and I don't suppose now that anybody ever will." As she says this she looks at him with the prettiest smile; it is a mixture of amusement and defiance.