We visited Robin next, and then went on to the Lockes', and Jill sat open-eyed and breathless in a corner of the room as I sang carols to Phoebe in the twilight.
She rose reluctantly when I put my hand on her shoulder and told her that we must hurry back to the cottage to make ourselves smart for the evening.

Jill seldom troubled her head about such sublunary affairs as dress.
'I shall be obliged to wear my old tweed,' she said contentedly.

'I have only to smooth my hair, and then I shall be ready.' And she grumbled not a little when I insisted on arranging a beautiful spray of holly as a breast-knot, and twisting some very handsome coral beads that Charlie had given me round her neck.

Jill always looked better for a touch of warm colour: the dark-red berries just suited her brown skin.

'You will do better now,' I said, pushing her away gently, 'so you need not pout and hunch your shoulders.