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I clenched my teeth. "I am nineteen, madam."

"No-o!" he said, as if nobody but a gaping idiot would expect anybody not a gaping idiot to notice a leather-curtained spring-wagon. "No-o! did you notice the brown horse that man was riding who just now passed you as you turned off the road?"

Rills of perspiration tickled my back like flies. "Can't one man do the work?"

Lit with foolish hope to hear thy fondling sighs, Like yon twilight dove's, breathe, Return, return!

"One too modest," I murmured, "to know her own portrait." I clutched the braid emotionally and let it go intending to retake it; but she dropped it behind her and said I was too imaginative to be safe.

I laughed a gay disdain. "Who is Lucius; is he Charlotte's husband?"

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