Her whole conduct and tone had been modest and ladylike. "Well, Sir?" gasped Sir Rowland. Were it not for your voice, I don't think I should know you. She had carried a chair into the room veranda and had watched and listened until the night silences had lengthened and only occasionally she heard a voice or the rattle of rickshaw wheels in the courtyard. There’s something about you, a little flavor of Will, I suppose, that makes one feel—good luck about you and success. ” She growled. "I thought you'd have got rid of your ill-humour by this time. He smiled. “Don’t fence with me,” Anna cried fiercely. Once or twice she commented upon it, but she knew that it was resultant of his fear of her impending departure. It isn’t sentiment but it’s horse sense.
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