It was of some soft, clinging material, of the same sunny yellow that buttercups wear, and Eugenia knew very well how becoming it was to her brunette style of beauty.

After she was dressed, she spun around before the pier-glass until she heard her father's step in the hall.
Although she had been so impatient for his coming, she said nothing about the invitation from Locust until they had gone down to dinner and were seated in the great dining-room together.

She knew that that was not the way Mollie or Fay or Kell would have done.

Any one of them would have rushed at her father the moment he came in sight, and would have put her arms around his neck and poured out the whole story.

But Eugenia had never felt on such intimate terms with her father.