For a few minutes after his footsteps died away Aileen was silent.  She was wondering how to make her gifts to ’Possum without hurting the girl’s feelings.  Underneath the queer, abrupt exterior she knew there lay a sensitiveness so easily wounded that only the most delicate handling would succeed—and ’Possum’s independence was a sturdy growth. She might resent the presents altogether: for a moment Aileen grew almost sorry that she had prepared them, now that the time came for them to be given.