But only her fingers took up the same work that had occupied her before Betty's interruption.

Her thoughts started off in an entirely different direction.
A most romantic little day-dream had been keeping pace with her bead-stringing.

A day-dream through which walked a prince with eyes like Rob's and a voice like Phil's, and the wealth of a Croesus in his pockets.

And he wrote sonnets to her and called her his ladye fair, and gave her not only one turquoise, but a bracelet-ful.
Now every vestige of sentiment was gone, and she was sitting up straight and eager, repeating the old Colonel's words.

They were making her unspeakably happy.