merely dark; and it made, as hair should make, the simplest adornment
for her head, the most perfect setting for her face. As for her
features, (though it was impossible to think of them, or anything
about her as incorrect) they eluded while they fascinated him by their
subtlety. Lucia's beauty, in short, appealed to him, because it did
not commit him to any irretrievable opinion.

But nothing, not even her beauty, pleased him better than the way in
which she managed her intellect, divining by some infallible instinct
how much of it was wanted by any given listener at a given time. She
had none of the nasty tricks that clever women have, always on the
look out to go one better, and to catch you tripping. Her lucidity was
remarkable; but it served to show up other people's strong points
rather than her own. Lucia did not impress you as being clever, and
Jewdwine, who had a clever man's natural distaste for clever women,
admired his cousin's intellect, as well he might, for it was he who
had taught her how to use it. Her sense of humour, too (for Lucia was
dangerously gifted), that sense which more than any of her senses can
wreck a woman--he would have liked her just as well if she had had
none; but some, no doubt, she needed, if only to save her from the
situations to which her kindness and her innocence exposed her; and
she had just the right amount and no more. Heavens! Supposing, without
it, she had met Keith Rickman and had yielded to the temptation to be
kind to him! Even in the heat Jewdwine shivered at the thought.

He put it from him, he put Rickman altogether from his mind. It was
not to think about Rickman that he came down to Court House. On a day
as hot as this, he wanted nothing but to keep cool. The gentle
oscillation of the hammock in the green shadows of the beech-tree
symbolized this attitude towards Rickman and all other ardent