And she directly fetched her writing-case, smiling queerly to herself as she bent over the table where it stood. She produced a sheet of paper, a new pen, drew an arm-chair to the table, and presenting her hand to old Helstone, begged permission to install him in it. For a minute he was a little stiff, and stood wrinkling his copper-coloured forehead strangely. At last he muttered, "Well, you are neither my wife nor my daughter, so I'll be led for once; but mind--I know I _am_ led. Your little female manuvres don't blind me."

And she fetched her writing-case, smiling queerly to herself. She produced paper and pen, drew an arm-chair to the table, and begged Helstone to sit there. For a minute he was a little stiff, wrinkling his forehead strangely. At last he muttered, "Well, you are neither my wife nor my daughter, so I'll be led for once; but mind - I know I am led. Your little female manuvres don't blind me."
