He's heard so much about you--says he remembers your eyes." This had pleased Isabelle.

It put them on equal terms, although she was quite capable of staging her own romances, with or without advance advertising.

But following her happy tremble of anticipation, came a sinking sensation that made her ask: "How do you mean he's heard about me?
What sort of things ?" Sally smiled.

She felt rather in the capacity of a showman with her more exotic cousin.
"He knows you're--you're considered beautiful and all that"-- she paused--"and I guess he knows you've been kissed." At this Isabelle's little fist had clinched suddenly under the fur robe.
She was accustomed to be thus followed by her desperate past, and it never failed to rouse in her the same feeling of resentment; yet--in a strange town it was an advantageous reputation.

She was a "Speed," was she?
Well--let them find out.
Out of the window Isabelle watched the snow glide by in the frosty morning.