"With a big white hat?" Zoe enquires, looking up for a moment. "That is my sister."
"Your sister! So this is the peerless Dolores. Well, I will own she is beautiful enough to command all your admiration." He studies the picture before him intently.
"How angry Dolores would be if she heard you say that."
Mr. Glen looked up, inquiring so innocently, "Why?" that Zoe's heart smote her with remorse.
"She rather objects to having strangers call her by her Christian name, of course," the youngest Miss Litchfield goes on cautiously. "Perhaps she would not mind your admiring her picture. I am sure there was nothing but perfect truth in what you said, was there?"
Mr. Glen gazes across from his seat in the bay window, and regards Zoe thoughtfully.
"I suppose your sister, Miss Litchfield, has told you many pleasant stories regarding her trip abroad," he enquires, with strong emphasis on the Miss Litchfield.
"Oh yes! Sometimes I almost think I am in the various places she has been. Dolores describes persons and places so graphically."
Mr. Glen rather winces. In the enthusiasm of speaking of Dolores, Zoe's work is for the time forgotten.
"Yes, she is more than clever in almost everything; she has certain magnetic powers not possessed by us all."