Her thick, burnished hair was not in any desperate disorder, but she touched it here and there, patted, tucked, caressed it with light, swift fingers, delicately precise as the exploring antennæ of a butterfly. "Give me my answer, Karen," he urged, in a low voice, stepping nearer. Instantly she moved lightly aside to avoid him--just a short step--her back still turned, her hands framing her bright hair. Presently she looked around with a slight laugh, which seemed to say: "Have you noticed my new wings? If I choose to use them, I become unattainable. Take care, my friend!" The expression of her face checked him; her eyes were still starry from tears. The dewy loveliness of them, the soft shyness born of knowledge, the new charm of her left him silent and surprised. He had supposed that she was rather low in her mind. Also he became aware that something about her familiar to him had gone, that he was confronted by something in her hitherto unsuspected and undetected--something subtly experienced and unexpectedly mature. But that a new intelligence, made radiant by the consciousness of power, had suddenly developed and enveloped this young girl, and was now confronting him he did not comprehend at first. And yet, in her attitude, in the poise of the small head, in the slight laugh parting her lips, in every line of her supple figure, every contour, every movement, he was aware of a surety, a self-confidence, a sort of serene authority utterly unfamiliar to him in her personality. Gone was the wistfulness, the simplicity, the indecision of immaturity, the almost primitive candour that knows no art. Here was complexity looking out of eyes he scarcely knew, baffling him with a beauty indescribable. "Karen--dear?" he said unsteadily, "have you nothing to say to me?" There was laughter and curiosity in her eyes, and a hint of mockery. "Yes," she said, "I have a great deal to say to you. In the first place we must not be silly any more----" "_Silly!_" She seemed surprised at his emphatic interruption. "Yes, silly," she repeated serenely; "foolish, inconsequential. I admit I made a goose of myself, but that is no excuse for you to do it, too. You are older and more experienced and _so_ much wiser----" "Karen!" "Yes?" she said innocently. "What has happened to you?" he asked, disturbed and bewildered. She opened her eyes at that: "Nothing has happened, has it? Is my gown torn?"--bending over to survey her skirt and waist--"Oh, I forgot that the famous robbery occurred without violence----" He reddened: "I don't understand you, Karen. Why do you fence this way with me? Why do you speak this way to me? What has suddenly changed you--totally altered you--altered your attitude toward me, your point of view, your disposition--your very character apparently----" "My character?" she repeated with a gay little laugh which seemed to him irresponsible, and confused him exceedingly.