I like it.
Won't you join us here ?" "Miss Burgoyne was just telling us about a donkey-boy she had in Galway last summer," Sir Harry Towne explained as the circle closed up again.
Lord Westmere stroked his long white mustache with his bloodless hand and looked at Alexander blankly.

Hilda was a good story-teller.

She was sitting on the edge of her chair, as if she had alighted there for a moment only.

Her primrose satin gown seemed like a soft sheath for her slender, supple figure, and its delicate color suited her white Irish skin and brown hair.

Whatever she wore, people felt the charm of her active, girlish body with its slender hips and quick, eager shoulders.
Alexander heard little of the story, but he watched Hilda intently.