You are good and pure and true,--these graces outweigh all cleverness." Her cheeks flushed prettily,--she thought of a girl who had been her schoolmate at Brighton, one of the boldest little hussies that ever flashed eyes to the light of day, yet who could assume the dainty simpering air of maiden--modest perfection at the moment's notice.

She wished she could do the same, but she had not studied the trick carefully enough, and she was afraid to try more of it than just a little tremulous smile and a quick downward glance at her fan.

Helmsley watched her attentively--almost craftily.

It did not strain his sense of perspicuity over much to see exactly what was going on in her mind.

He settled himself a little more comfortably in his chair, and pressing the tips of his fingers together, looked at her over this pointed rampart of polished nails as though she were something altogether curious and remarkable.
"The virtues of a woman are her wealth and worth," he said sententiously, as though he were quoting a maxim out of a child's copybook.