He was alert, well-groomed, and yet—perhaps in contrast with the more volatile French type—there was a suggestion of weight about him, not to say heaviness. His face was half hidden under a freshly pipeclayed sola topee—sun-helmet. At first she could not tell what it was; but as her eyes became accustomed to the light, she recognized the old coat. But after Singapore she found herself enduing them with the characteristics of the heroes in the novels she had just read for the first time. The way—the way we are led on! We are taught to believe we are free in the world, to think we are queens. He stood up abruptly and went to the window. She was trembling a little.
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