The remainder of the letter was filled up with business directions, suggestions, and interrogations.
When Mayne came out of his room in the morning, he sat on the steps, and greedily devoured the delicious pearly prospect; it was similar to the one from "The Corner," but finer, and more extensive.
"Isn't it lovely?" said a clear voice, and looking round he beheld Miss Travers.
Seen by the clear and impartial light of day, her appearance was disappointing; a tall slip of a girl with deeply sunburnt face, in which was set a pair of wide-open grey eyes; and Mayne was struck by the intensely youthful expression of these eyes—that now regarded him curiously; her hair, very thick and wavy, was of a tawny red—almost the same shade as her complexion; a white linen frock emphasized a slim, rather boyish figure, and made no attempt to hide a pair of surpassingly neat ankles. Nancy's age was possibly sixteen, and to sum up her personality in one word, Mayne's hostess was neither more nor less, than a happy-looking, well-grown flapper!
"I never tire of it," she resumed; "if I am bored, or in a bad temper, I just sit here and stare—and it always soothes me."
"Are you ever in a bad temper?" inquired Mayne, who had risen, and was looking up at her.
"Don't ask me—ask Daddy," she answered with a gay smile, revealing a set of perfect teeth, "I'm afraid he will say it's—fiery!"
"May be your hair has something to say to it?"
"Probably! When I was a small child, it was much worse,—other girls pretended to warm their hands on my head. It has grown deeper in shade, and I have hopes, that it may yet be black."