Fiona sighed. When her father spoke freely, she could sense the man who 
had told her the stories. When certain subjects were broached, he drew down his 
veil and became just another Victorian gentleman. It was irksome. But she could 
sense how the same characteristic, in a man who was not her father, could be 
provocative. It was such an obvious weakness that neither she nor any woman 
could resist the temptation to exploit it—a mischievous and hence 
tantalizing notion that was to occupy much of Fiona's thinking for the next few 
days, as they encountered other members of their tribe in London.