She was at once so open and so impenetrable.

She replied to all questions with complete unreserve, but she had never, with all her candour, the air of making confidences.

It hurt Althea a little, and yet was part of the allurement, to see that she was, probably, too indifferent to be reticent.

Lying on her pillows, a cigarette--all too frequently, Althea considered--between her lips, and her hair wound in a heavy wreath upon her head, she would listen pleasantly, and as pleasantly reply; and Althea could not tell whether it was because she really found it pleasant to talk and be talked to, or whether, since she had nothing better to do, she merely showed good manners.

Althea was sensitive to every shade in manners, and was sure that Miss Buchanan, however great her tact might be, did not find her a bore; yet she could not be at all sure that she found her interesting, and this disconcerted her.
Sometimes the suspicion of it made her feel humble, and sometimes it made her feel a little angry, for she was not accustomed to being found uninteresting.