Whence came this inclination of all to rear the child upon a pedestal?
Risley wondered, looking at her, narrowing his keen, light eyes under reflective brows, puffing at his cigar; then he admitted to himself that he was one with the crowd of Ellen's admirers.

There was somehow about the girl that which gave the impression of an enormous reserve out of all proportion to any external evidence.
"The child says nothing remarkable," he told Cynthia, after she had gone that evening, "but somehow she gives me an impression of power to say something extraordinary, and do something extraordinary.
There is electricity and steel behind that soft, rosy flesh of hers.
But all she does which is evident to the eye of man is to worship you, Cynthia." "Worship me ?" repeated Cynthia, vaguely.
"Yes, she has one of those aberrations common to her youth and her sex.

She is repeating a madness of old Greece, and following you as a nymph might a goddess." "It is only because she is grateful," returned Cynthia, looking rather annoyed.
"Gratitude may be a factor in it, but it is very far from being the whole of the matter.

It is one of the spring madnesses of life; but don't be alarmed, it will be temporary in the case of a girl like that.

She will easily be led into her natural track of love.