I could but look taller, personabler, _older_! "They will all say that he has made a fool of himself," I say, half aloud.
It is a sultry day, without wind or freshness, and with a great deal of sun; but in spite of this, I put on a silk gown, rich and heavy, as looking more _married_ than the cobweb muslins in which I have hitherto met the summer heat.

On my head I place a sedately feathered bonnet, which would not have misbecome mother.

I meet Algy and Barbara in my boudoir.

They are already dressed.

I examine Barbara with critical care, and with a discontented eye, though to a stranger her appearance would seem likely to inspire any feeling rather than dissatisfaction, for she looks as clean and fair and chastely sweet as ever maiden did.