Their manners were better than those of most of the people in our vicinity. They looked at nobody but took their places without the least self-consciousness, and talked to each other in low tones with light smiles. You cannot be sure about married people on parade, of course; they might have been quarrelling fiercely.

They were on the town nearly until dawn.

“You're not my mother, Amelia,” Erin groused and tried to get her hand free. “And he's smexy as hell... […]

Such introversion is merely a matter of form.