. . Bit priggish, isn’t it? And if he only knew it—so absurd. —"Oh! about that boy, Thames Darrell. She came along with the fluttering assurance of some tall ship. Aunt and niece regarded each other silently. The shape of the head, the height and breadth of the brow, the angle of the nose, the cut of the chin and jaws, all were fine, of a type she had never before looked upon closely. ” Her reverie broke, and she found herself still in front of the looking glass, a barrette hanging loosely from her hair. She refused to sleep in the same room with him one night, kicking him in the shins.
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