It was not due to shyness: it was the inherent instinct of the Woman, a protective fear that she must retain some elements of mystery in order to hold the interest of the male. " "Shall I tell you a real story?" "Something you have seen?" "Yes. There's good stuff in him, if one could find the way to dig it out. ‘I do not know of whom you speak. Taken altogether, his physiognomy resembled one of those vagabond heads which Murillo delighted to paint, and for which Guzman d'Alfarache, Lazarillo de Tormes, or Estevanillo Gonzalez might have sat:—faces that almost make one in love with roguery, they seem so full of vivacity and enjoyment. ‘You wish to tell me something? Parbleu, I have nearly forgot once more.
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