If only monsieur le baron had said nothing, or perhaps instead accepted the couple as the Valades and agreed to help them. The books slid from her arms and fluttered to the floor. He went to the door. For all that she was of exceptional intellectual enterprise, she had never yet considered these things with unaverted eyes. The fellow swore lustily, in a voice which Jack instantly recognised as that of Quilt Arnold, and vainly attempted to rise and draw his sword. On the one hand, she seemed to think plainly and simply, and would talk serenely and freely about topics that most women have been trained either to avoid or conceal; and on the other she was unconscious, or else she had an air of being unconscious—that was the riddle—to all sorts of personal applications that almost any girl or woman, one might have thought, would have made. She tipped his mouth towards her own and kissed him. The spectacle seemed to afford as much amusement to Jonathan as to the actors engaged in it.
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