"You can hardly expect me to judge of any human being in five minutes," she answered with some show of reason.
"That sounds very plausible, my dear, but I can read you like print," and here Malcolm looked at her squarely.

"You may as well confess, Anna, you are far more struck with Goliath than with poor little Verity." Anna looked rather guilty; as usual, Malcolm's penetration had not deceived him.

She had been most favourably impressed with the good-humoured giant, with his honest face and kindly blue eyes; but Verity, a brown slip of a girl with big solemn eyes, how was she to perjure herself by pretending that she was attracted by such a unique little piece of eccentricity.
"I wish she did not look so like a boy," she observed in a deprecating voice.

But Malcolm took this remark in good part.
"Oh, you mean her hair," he replied coolly.

"Oh, poor girl, that is the result of brain fever.