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She opened the window, for the night was mild, and sat on the floor with her chin resting upon the window-sill. She felt herself falling, her bile rising in her 61 throat, the cold wind spinning around her like vertigo. There were three exit doors. Certainly not a gentlewoman. She seemed just as stiff and shy as a girl ought to be, Lady Palsworthy thought, neither garrulous nor unready, and free from nearly all the heavy aggressiveness, the overgrown, overblown quality, the egotism and want of consideration of the typical modern girl. Once, when he thought he had done so, he smiled an ingratiating smile.
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