She had her father's passion for books.
"She heard me say to Sorell, apparently, that I would give my eyes for it, and couldn't afford it.

That was a week ago.

And to-day, after luncheon, she stole in here like a mouse--you none of you saw or heard her--holding the books behind her--and looking as meek as milk.

You would have thought she was a child, coming to say she was sorry! And she gave me the books in the prettiest way--just like her mother!--as though all the favour came from me.

I'm beginning to be very fond of her.