Floretta was built on the scale of a fairy, with tiny, fine, waxen features, a little tossing mane of flaxen hair, eyes a most lovely and perfect blue, with no more depth in them than in the blue of china, and an expression of the sweetest and most innocent inanity and irresponsibility.

Nobody ever expected anything of this little Floretta Vining.

She was always a negative success.
She smiled around from the foot of her curving class, and never had her lessons, but she never disobeyed the rules, except that of punctuality.
Floretta was late at school.

She came daintily up the aisle, two cheap bangles on one wrist slipping over a slim hand, and tinkling.
Floretta's mother had a taste for the cheaply decorative.

There was an abundance of coarse lace on Floretta's frock, and she wore a superfluous sash which was not too fresh.