"Don't worry. She'll never, never hear me say it. She'd be just as astounded and outraged as you are, I'm sure—even more so."
Loring had to let it go at that. He contented himself with growling sulkily:
"What all this has got to do with that little half-tamed leopardess being quartered on us at Newport, I'm blessed if I can see...."
"Only that it would please your mother immensely and take a great load off her mind."
"Suppose you don't like the girl when you see her? She's as wild as a hawk—or was two years ago."
"A leopardess and a hawk—that sounds interesting. I don't mind anything but bad-temper."
"Oh, she's good-tempered enough when she's not riled. But a girl like Belinda's a devilish responsibility. I don't take kindly to the notion, I'm free to confess."
"Don't you like her?"
"Ye-es," he admitted grudgingly. "It's only that she's such a handful."
"Well—we can but try it," said Sophy thoughtfully. She gave him one of her warm, friendly smiles. "There's really nothing else for us to do, Morris," she said. "Mrs. Horton can always be sent for if we can't manage her. But perhaps she'll like me. Perhaps she won't be wilful and wrong-headed at all. You see, eighteen is very different from sixteen."