When the sheep had been penned up, in the darkness the timorous wolves crept into the living-room, squealing, halting, thrown out of their habit of stolidity by the strangeness of advancing through nothingness toward a waiting foe, a mysterious foe which expanded and grew more menacing.
A virginal sweetness and timorousness—no flare of gaiety, no suggestion of cities, music, quick laughter.
She crept back to her room, a small timorous figure in white.
She was not timorous now.
Carol had hidden in none of these refuges from reality, but she, who was tender and merry, had been made timorous by Gopher Prairie.