pricks; the last man in the world to put up with a position
because it seemed to be his destiny to do so; one who took upon himself
to resist fate with the vindictive determination of a Theomachist.
Eyes and forehead both would have expressed keenness of intellect too
severely to be pleasing, had their force not been counteracted by the
lines and tone of the lips. These were full and luscious to a surprising
degree, possessing a woman-like softness of curve, and a ruby redness
so intense, as to testify strongly to much susceptibility of heart where
feminine beauty was concerned--a susceptibility that might require
all the ballast of brain with which he had previously been credited to
confine within reasonable channels.

His manner was rather elegant than good: his speech well-finished and
unconstrained.

The pause in their discourse, which had been caused by the peal of
thunder was unbroken by either for a minute or two, during which
the ears of both seemed to be absently following the low roar of the
waterfall as it became gradually rivalled by the increasing rush of rain
upon the trees and herbage of the grove. After her short looks at him,
Cytherea had turned her head towards the avenue for a while, and now,
glancing back again for an instant, she discovered that his eyes were
engaged in a steady, though delicate, regard of her face and form.

At this moment, by reason of the narrowness of the porch, their dresses
touched, and remained in contact.

His clothes are something exterior to every man; but to a woman
her dress is part of her body. Its motions are all present to her
intelligence if not to her eyes; no man knows how his coat-tails swing.
By the slightest hyperbole it may be said that her dress has sensation.
Crease but the very Ultima Thule of fringe or flounce, and it hurts her
as much as pinching her. Delicate antennae, or feelers, bristle on every
outlying frill. Go to the uppermost: she is there; tread on the lowest:
the fair creature is there almost before you.

Thus the touch of clothes, which was nothing to Manston, sent a thrill
through Cytherea, seeing, moreover, that he was of the nature of a
mysterious stranger. She looked out again at the storm, but still felt
him. At last to escape the sensation she moved away, though by so doing
it was necessary to advance a little into the rain.

'Look, the rain is coming into the porch upon you,' he said. 'Step
inside the door.'

Cytherea hesitated.