Her mirth has astonished him. She, the pale, frightened girl, to laugh like that! There has been no loudness in her mirth, either; it has been soft and refined, if very gay and happy. She has laughed as a girl might who has been born to happiness in every way—to silken robes and delicate surroundings, and all the paraphernalia that go to make up the life of those born into families that can count their many grandfathers.
Once or twice he has told himself half impatiently—angry with the charge laid upon his unwitting shoulders—that the girl is good-looking. Now he tells himself something more: that she is lovely, with that smile upon her face, as she sits—all unconscious of his criticism—with Tommy in her arms, and
‘Eyes
Upglancing brightly mischievous, a spring
Of brimming laughter welling on the brink
Of lips like flowers, small caressing hands
Tight locked,’
around the lucky Tommy’s waist.
But now she puts Tommy (who has evidently fallen a slave to her charms, and repudiates loudly her right to give him away like this) down on his sturdy feet, and comes a little forward to where Susan is standing.
‘I’m afraid I must go now,’ says she.