watching him, and he would not be encouraged to proceed. She had never yet actually dried him up, but now and then it had been rather a near thing. Somehow the gaze of those huge green eyes was very disconcerting to the Archdeacon. They gave him an awkward sensation of being transparent.
None of her sisters had ever affected him in this way; not Lesbia, not Lalage, not Julia not Virginia, her elders; still less her juniors, Atalanta and Oenone. He almost wished the girl would marry. Yes, he felt that he could spare Chloë more easily than any of the others. Nevertheless, she must marry the right kind of man. He didn't want to see her throw herself away, poor child. He could not spare her so easily as all that. But only let her get engaged to some really good, sterling, manly fellow with a heart of gold and about ten thousand
