Pansy wore a short dress and a long coat; her hat always seemed too big for her.
She found pleasure in walking off, with quick, short steps, to the end of the alley, and then in walking back with a smile that seemed an appeal for approbation.

Isabel approved in abundance, and the abundance had the personal touch that the child's affectionate nature craved.
She watched her indications as if for herself also much depended on them--Pansy already so represented part of the service she could render, part of the responsibility she could face.

Her father took so the childish view of her that he had not yet explained to her the new relation in which he stood to the elegant Miss Archer.

"She doesn't know," he said to Isabel; "she doesn't guess; she thinks it perfectly natural that you and I should come and walk here together simply as good friends.

There seems to me something enchantingly innocent in that; it's the way I like her to be.