.

but I--don't--know." And, as a matter of fact, she did not know; she was rather excited over nothing, apparently; and also somewhat preoccupied with several rather disturbing emotions the species of which she was interested in determining.

But to label and catalogue each of these emotions separately required privacy and leisure to think--and she also wished to look very earnestly at the reflection of her own face in the mirror of her own chamber.

For it is a trifle exciting--though but an innocent coincidence--to be compared, feature by feature, to a young man's ideal.
As far as that went, she excelled it, too; and, as she stood by the desk, alone, gathering up her notes, she suddenly bent over and lifted the hem of her gown a trifle--sufficient to reassure herself that the dainty pair of shoes she wore, would have baffled the efforts of any Venus ever sculptured.

And she was perfectly right.
"Of course," she thought to herself, "his ideal runaway hasn't enormous feet.