"It is lovely," said Fay, turning over the leaves with her slim fingers, and glancing at the illuminations inside the book. "Thank you so much, dear Annabel." And she came round to Annabel's place and kissed her.
"I am glad you like it, my dear," said Annabel. "I wanted to get you something to wear—something more suitable for a young girl than a Prayer Book, but Reggie insisted."
"It was so dear of you to want to get me exactly what you thought I wanted," Fay replied; "and I think it is the most exquisite Prayer Book that I've ever seen" (which I really believe it was).
"And now you must look at my present, sweetheart," I said, spreading out the furs.
"They are beautiful; much too handsome for me."
"Nothing is too handsome for you, Fay: cloth-of-gold wouldn't be, if I could get it. Won't you try them on?"
"Not now, I think. Thank you very much for them, Reggie, but it really is too hot a morning for trying on furs."
"So it is, my dear," Annabel chimed in. "I wonder at Reggie's being so stupid as to suggest it; and before you've had your breakfast, too," she added, as if breakfast were a cooling ceremony.
And then we all sat down to breakfast. Fay was absolutely different from what she had been upstairs; but that was just her way; she was as changeable and charming as an April day, and with as little reason for it.
Two or three weeks after this, Annabel said to me: "You were wrong after all about that absurd Prayer Book, Reggie. I know it was a ridiculous present for a young girl. I'd much better have given Fay a new sunshade, or something pretty to wear."