Monsieur Lavilette stood in the doorway, and behind him, at a carefully disposed distance, was Madame, rather more emphatically dressed than necessary.
As he shook hands genially with Madame he saw Sophie and Christine in the doorway of the parlour.

His spirits took another leap.

His inexhaustible emotions were out upon cheerful parade at once.
The Lavilettes immediately became pensioners of his affections.

The first hour of his coming he himself did not know which sister his ample heart was spending itself on most--Sophie, with her English face, and slow, docile, well-bred manner, or Christine, dark, petite, impertinent, gay-hearted, wilful, unsparing of her tongue for others--or for herself.
Though Christine's lips and cheeks glowed, and her eyes had wonderful warm lights, incredulity was constantly signalled from both eyes and lips.

She was a fine, daring little animal, with as great a talent for untruth as truth, though, to this point in her life, truth had been more with her.