When I returned I found her still sitting in grave absorption before the studies that had taken us so by surprise.
Her face was full of a soft new light; I had never before seen the spring touched in her that could flood it like that.
'You were very nearly right,' I announced; 'but the blaze of colour was in the middle distance, and there was a torrent in the foreground that quite put it out.

And the picture does take the Society's silver medal.' 'I can not decide,' she replied without looking at me, 'between the Kattiawar fair thing and those hills in the rain.

I can only have one--father won't hear of more than one.' 'You can have two,' I said bluntly, so deeply interested I was in the effect the things had on her.

'And I will have a third for myself.

I can't withstand those apricot-trees.' I thought there was moisture in the eyes she turned upon me, an unusual thing--a most unusual thing--in Dora Harris; but she winked it back, if it was there, too quickly for any certainty.
'You are a dear,' she said.