"Which makes the sinner, and which the saint?"
"Can I decide?"
"Why not?"
"My teachers and myself are so far apart! I have found a counterpart; but, specter, you were born of the union."
My head was buried in my arms; but I heard a voice at my elbow—a shrill, scornful voice it was. "Are you coming down to tea, then?"
Looking up, I saw Fanny. "Tea-time so soon?"
"Yes, it is. You think nothing of time; have nothing to do, I suppose."
And she clasped her hands over her apron—hands so small and thin that they looked like those of an old woman. Her hair was light and scanty, her complexion sallow, and her eyes a palish gray; but her features were delicate and pretty. She seemed to understand my thoughts.
"You think I am stunted, don't you?"
"You are not large to my eye."