Its suggestions betrayed themselves in one of her first movements.

Nothing could be soberer than the cut of the dresses which the propriety of the severe household had established as the rule of her costume.

But the girl was no sooner out of bed than a passion came over her to see herself in that less jealous arrangement of drapery which the Beauty of the last century had insisted on as presenting her most fittingly to the artist.

She rolled up the sleeves of her dress, she turned down its prim collar and neck, and glanced from her glass to the portrait, from the portrait back to the glass.

Myrtle was not blind nor dull, though young, and in many things untaught.