His car was there. Her figure, though slight, had all the fulness of health; and her complexion—still pale, but without its former sickly cast,—contrasted agreeably, by its extreme fairness, with the dark brows and darker lashes that shaded eyes which, if they had lost some of their original brilliancy, had gained infinitely more in the soft and chastened lustre that replaced it. Probably she mistook you; probably she thought you cared. Her cheeks flushed a dull red. Nobody regards Constance or Vee as a delicate trifle. "There it is!" cried Sir James, eagerly.
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