Her pretty, soft, fluffy hair, cut short, and curled all over her head by Mother Nature, is flying a little wildly across her brows, her large gray eyes (that sometimes are so nearly black) are brilliant.

Altogether she is just a little, a _very_ little, pronounced in her behaviour.

Her opponents, people who have come over to The Place for the day, whisper something to each other, and laugh a little.

After all, they have lost--perhaps they are somewhat spiteful.

Lady Rylton, sitting on the terrace above, bites her lips.