She wanted to take him in her arms and hush him, but she sat perfectly still. Her complexion was wan and faded, except where it was tinged by a slight hectic flush, that made the want of colour more palpable; her eyes were large and black, but heavy and lustreless; her cheeks sunken; her frame emaciated; her dark hair thickly scattered with gray. He had chosen his time well. She tried not to notice how much attention Martin Chen had been paying her, but he had been bold enough to speak to her the other day. "I understand," replied the stranger, unable to repress a smile. Thames said not another word, but marched boldly towards him, and seized him by the collar. It was not due to shyness: it was the inherent instinct of the Woman, a protective fear that she must retain some elements of mystery in order to hold the interest of the male.
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