"Well, she didn't strike me as in the least like that; but you can be a
great help to her if she is really in earnest."

"She didn't strike you like that, my dear, simply because you are a man,
and some girls are never really themselves with men; they are for ever
acting a part; a vulgar part, I admit, but one they have learned before
they were born, the instinctive quarry eluding the instinctive hunter.
The girl is naturally shy; I could tell that, and she covers it with a
kind of boldness that isn't--well, particularly attractive to one of
your fastidious mind. Yet there is something rather taking about her.
She reminds me of a small, bright tropical bird."

"Of a Virginia redbird, you mean."

"A redbird? Then you have seen her?"

"Yes, I've seen her--only twice--but the last time she indulged her
sense of humour in a practical joke about a sprained ankle."

"I suppose she would joke like that. Even the modern girl that we know
isn't in the best possible taste. And you must remember that Patty Vetch
is something very different from the girls that you admire. I hope
she'll let me help her, but I doubt it. She is the sort that wouldn't
come if you tried to call and coax her. You said her father was like
that, didn't you? Well, with that kind of wildness, or shyness, one
can't put out a cage, you know. The only way is to scatter crumbs on the
window-sill and then stand and wait. Will you let me take you home?"

They had crossed the pavement to her car, and she waited now with her
smile of whimsical gaiety.