She extended her feet.

"Pretty slippers, aren't they, Wilbur ?" "Charming, my dear." Margaret was so pleased that she tried to do something very amiable.
"That was funny, I mean what you said about the Syrian girl at the Dominie's," she volunteered, and laughed, without making a crease in her fair little face.

She was really adorable, far more than pretty, leaning back with one slender, yellow-draped leg crossed over the other, revealing the glittering slippers and one silken ankle.
"It does sound somewhat queer, a Syrian girl fainting in the Dominie's house," said Wilbur.

"She could not have found a house where her sex, of any nationality, are in less repute." "Then you don't think that Alice Mendon-- ?" There was a faint note of jealousy in Margaret's voice, although she herself had not the slightest interest in Dominie von Rosen or any man, except her husband; and in him only because he was her husband.

As the husband of her wonderful self, he acquired a certain claim to respect, even affection, such as she had to bestow.
"I don't think Alice Mendon would take up with the Dominie, if he would with her," responded Wilbur Edes hastily.