When Spiller last saw her she was hardly better than a waif and stray.

She was thin and bony, her growth impeded by insufficient food, irregular hours and not a little ill usage.

At Miss Pinwell's she had lived well, she was happy, she had had love illusions and Nature had asserted its sway.
Lavinia coloured with pleasure.

To be complimented by Spiller, the idol of the public--an actor--and she adored actors--was like the condescension of a god.

She dropped him a low curtsey.
"Oh, and you're in the fashion too.