"I am not, by Heaven!" replied Sheppard, firmly. . “How could it not have hurt?” His analytical side started putting in overtime. He was always doing his best to call her attention to the fact that he was a man of spirit and quality and experience, and she a young and beautiful woman, and that all sorts of constructions upon their relationship were possible, trusting her to go on from that to the idea that all sorts of relationships were possible. The path he had selected conducted him to his mother's humble dwelling. The perception of him flooded her being. It was dangerous for her to dare approaching him and she knew the tremendous risk she was taking, but a part of her demanded that he be found. She was to be handed over with her dowry of three thousand Florins, plus her pet bird, six chickens, her mother’s fine linens, a small book of poetry.
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