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I would that you were my own. Had she not seen them go forth with tracts in their pockets and grins in their beards? To set fire to his imagination, to sting his sense of chivalry into being, to awaken his manhood, she must present some irresistible project. “Of course,” he ventured, “I could try for more at the ‘Alhambra. You can’t look me in the eyes and say you don’t care for me. I’ve had enough of it. ” She looked at him with curious eyes. She stole the opportunity to peer at his departing figure from the closed curtains of the front room window, his shoulders slumped forward, his posture and his ego slightly deflated.
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