It was not because she was afraid--the trust in her mind never failed her for an instant--but she knew that she was captive.

Whoever the other woman might be, if his honour, his heart, his whole soul were plighted to her, yet Sally knew that she must love him.

There was all the giving, all the yielding, all the passive abandonment in her eyes; and when he saw that, Traill shot upright, forcing his hands to anything they might do.
"That's my sister," he said hurriedly, breaking into conversation--the man pursued and seeking sanctuary.

He could not trust himself to look closely at her again.

The boiling of the milk was an action of refuge; he crushed the saucepan down on to the glowing coals.