"And that picture of me from the drawing-room, on the table!" she cried, her eyes suddenly soft with joy.

"You dear thing! What made you bring that up ?" "I wanted to have it here," he told her.
"I'm not so nice as that now," she sighed, a little wistfully.
"Do not believe it," he answered.

"You have not changed in the least.
You will be better-looking still when you have been here for a few months." She looked at him almost shyly--tenderly, yet still with that gleam of aloofness in her eyes.
"I think," she murmured, "I shall be just what you want me to be.

I think you could make me just what you want.

Be very kind to me, please," she begged, stretching her arms out to him.