His face was half hidden under a freshly pipeclayed sola topee—sun-helmet. Shy, grateful in her loneliness for this unexpected attention, she had listened. "Remember the devil!" retorted Terence, who had recovered his natural audacity. He stood a little anxious and fussy, bothered by the responsibility of her, entirely careless of what her life was or was likely to be, ignoring her thoughts and feelings, ignorant of every fact of importance in her life, explaining everything he could not understand in her as nonsense and perversity, concerned only with a terror of bothers and undesirable situations.
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