Then I turn to my books--I'm wild about history.

And how I love the great free out-of-doors! I should prefer to be on a simple farm, were I a boy.

The public would not have me a boy, you say"-- she shrugged prettily--"oh, of course, my beauty, as they are pleased to call it.
After all, why should one not speak of that?
Beauty is just a stock in trade, you know.

Why not acknowledge it frankly?
But do come to my delightful kitchen, where I spend many a spare moment, and see the lovely custard I have made for dear mamma's luncheon." Merton Gill was entranced by this exposition of the quieter side of his idol's life.

Of course he had known she could not always be making narrow escapes, and it seemed that she was almost more delightful in this staid domestic life.