"How about Gerald Smith?"
"He's too tall. I look like an aspiring grasshopper beside him."
"And Jack Wyth?"
"He's too short."
"And Sydney Kent?"
"He's too stupid."
"And Tom Bassett?"
Sally yawned.
"He's too—everything. There's cock crow, and I'm going to bed."
The next afternoon Eugenia drove Sally in to town, and stopped on her outward trip to pay a visit to Mrs. Webb. She found that lady serenely seated in her drawing-room, as unruffled as if she had not just dismissed a cook and cooked a dinner.