"Far from it," she said. "In the vacation I try to forget that I am even the makings of one."
She looked almost handsome as she stood there in the soft light of the room. Lady Munro forgot that her niece was a medical student, and experienced a distinct sense of pride and proprietorship. No ordinary modiste, she felt sure, had arranged those folds of soft grey crape, and the dash of glowing crimson geraniums on the shoulder was the touch of an artist.
"Mona is the image of her mother," she said.
"Ye-e-s," said Sir Douglas, availing himself of his wife's relationship to look at Mona very frankly. "She reminds me a good deal of what you were at her age."
"Nonsense!" said Mona hastily. "Remember I am not used to flattery."
"To receiving or to paying it?"
"To neither;" and she turned a look of very honest and almost childlike admiration on her aunt.
Sir Douglas looked pleased, although he himself had long ceased to pay his wife compliments.
"There's a great deal of your father in your face, too," he said. "You have got his mouth. Ah, he was a good fellow! I could tell you many a story of our Indian life—a man in a thousand!"
"You could tell me nothing I should more dearly like to hear," said Mona, with eager interest.