"Your voice says to my ears, what your face says to my fingers.

I know I shall like you.
Come in, and see the rooms we are going to live in together." As I rose, she put her arm round my waist--then instantly drew it away again, and shook her fingers impatiently, as if something had hurt them.
"A pin ?" I asked.
"No! no! What colored dress have you got on ?" "Purple." "Ah! I knew it! Pray don't wear dark colors.

I have my own blind horror of anything that is dark.

Dear Madame Pratolungo, wear pretty bright colors, to please _me!_" She put her arm caressingly round me again--round my neck, however, this time, where her hand could rest on my linen collar.

"You will change your dress before dinner--won't you ?" she whispered.