'But my cheek-bones, Louisa?'
'They are not too prominent, Carry.'
'Curls relieve them.'
'The change will relieve the curls, dear one.'
Caroline looked in the glass, at the Countess, as polished a reflector, and fell into a chair. Her hair was accustomed to roll across her shoulders in heavy curls. The Duke would find a change of the sort singular. She should not at all know herself with her hair done differently: and for a lovely woman to be transformed to a fright is hard to bear in solitude, or in imagination.
'Really!' she petitioned.
'Really—yes, or no?' added the Countess.
'So unaccountable a whim!' Caroline looked in the glass dolefully, and pulled up her thick locks from one cheek, letting them fall on the instant.
'She will?' breathed the Countess.
'I really cannot,' said Caroline, with vehemence.