Here, indeed, was a type with which he had never until now come into contact—a natural woman. She was a lone white woman, therefore marked. Remote little Ann Veronica! She would never know the heart of that child again! That child had loved fairy princes with velvet suits and golden locks, and she was in love with a real man named Capes, with little gleams of gold on his cheek and a pleasant voice and firm and shapely hands. “I am so sorry to have startled you,” she said, “but I was startled myself. “My dad is into this stuff. ‘Seems to me, missie, as you’re as dangerous a female as I’m like to see.
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