There seemed to be a slight bluish mist over the garden and the building, a mist starred with patches of white and dazzlingly green leaf.

And, above all, there was an evening sky, peaceful and luminous, from which a light wind blew towards the two girls sitting by the open window.

One, the elder, had a face like a Watteau sketch, with black velvety eyes, hair drawn back from a white forehead, delicate little mouth, with sharp indentations at the corners, and a small chin.

The other was much more solidly built--a girl of seventeen, in a plump phase, which however an intelligent eye would have read as not likely to last; a complexion of red and brown tanned by exercise; an expression in her clear eyes which was alternately frank and ironic; and an inconvenient mass of golden brown hair.
"We make a fuss, my dear," said the younger sister, "because we're bound to make a fuss.

Connie, I understand, is to pay us a good round sum for her board and lodging, so it's only honest she should have a decent room." "Yes, but you don't know what she'll call decent," said the other rather sulkily.