"There isn't anything subtle about Hetty," said Sara, with a laugh. "She's quite ingenuous."
Leslie was pulling at his moustache, and frowning slightly. The sunburn on his nose and forehead had begun to peel off in chappy little flakes.
"Ripping likeness, though," was his comment.
"Oh, perfect," said his mother. "Really wonderful. It will make Brandon famous."
"She's so healthy-looking," said Vivian.
"English," remarked Leslie, as if that covered everything.
"Nonsense," cried the elder Mrs. Wrandall, lifting her lorgnette again. "Pure, honest, unmixed blood, that's what it is. There is birth in that girl's face."
"You're always talking about birth, mother," said her son sourly, as he turned away.
"It's a good thing to have," said his mother with conviction.
"It's an easy thing to get in America," said he, pulling out his cigarette case. "Have a cigarette, mother? Sara?"