Perhaps an inch or
two taller than her mother, she was of a marked slenderness; a
_completed_ slenderness, I might say--a slenderness so palpably finished
as to details that I can only describe it as felicitous in the extreme.
It seemed almost certain that her appearance had once been disarming,
that the threat in her eye-flash and tilted head was a trick learned by
contact with many young ladies who needed finishing more than they would
admit.
Of course this did not explain why Miss Lansdale should visually but
patently disparage me at this moment. I was by no means an unfinished
young lady, and, in any event, she should have left all that behind; the
moment was one wherein relaxation would have been not only graceful but
entirely safe, for she was in no manner to be held accountable for my
conduct.
Yet again and again her curious reserve congealed me back upon the
stanch regard of Miss Caroline. My passion for that sprightly dame and
her gracious acceptance of it were happily not to deteriorate under the
regard of any possible daughter, however egregiously might we flaunt to
her trained eye our need to be "finished."
The newcomer's reserve was indeed pregnable to no assault I could
devise.
Pages:
296
297
298
299
300
301
302
303
304
305
306
307
308
309
310
311
312
313
314
315
316
317
318
319
320