"It seems to run all through her.

Not an inch that doesn't seem to enjoy it." "Well, there aren't _many _inches," says Sir Maurice, with am amused air.
"And the laugh itself--so gay." "You are en enthusiast," says Sir Maurice, who is standing near Mrs.
Bethune.
"My dear fellow, who wouldn't be, in such a cause ?" says the young cavalryman, with a rather conscious laugh.
"Here she is," says Mrs.Chichester, who is one of those people whom Nature has supplied with eyes behind and before.
Tita running up the slope at this moment like a young deer--a steep embankment that would have puzzled a good many people--puts an effectual end to the conversation.

Mr.Gower graciously deigning to give her half of his rug, she sinks upon it gladly.

She likes Gower.
Lady Rylton calls to her.
"Not on the grass, Tita dearest," cries she, in her little shrill, old-young voice.

"Come here to me, darling.