Yes, there was a “yet,” very decidedly, both as to dress, which was the very best of its kind, and, when the girl slowly turned to Stasy with some trivial remark, as to looks. For her eyes were beautiful, quite beautiful, with the touch of pathos in them which one sometimes sees in eyes which are the only redeeming feature of an undeniably plain face.
“Have a little indulgence for me—I cannot help myself,” such eyes seem to say, and Stasy, sensitive as quicksilver, responded at once to the unspoken appeal.
“Thank you,” she said gently, “I have plenty of room—no, I don’t mind being near the window,” and then she salved over to herself her suavity to “one of those Wandle or Bracy girls,” by reflecting that Blanche had said it would be very wrong indeed to show anything but perfect courtesy and kindliness at a party especially arranged for a charitable object, though a slight misgiving came over her when the owner of the beautiful eyes spoke again in an evidently less conventional and more friendly tone.
“That was your sister who came in with you, was it not? I am so glad to see her more distinctly. She is so—so very lovely.”
Stasy, gratified though she felt on one side, stiffened slightly. Miss Wandle should not comment upon Blanche’s appearance, however favourably.
“Yes,” she said, “every one thinks so. I do, I can’t deny.”
Then she turned to her neighbour on the right. She was a pretty girl, with wavy brown hair, and a charming rosebud of a face. But her dress, though much more studied than the austere but perfectly fitting tweed, jarred at once on Stasy’s correct instincts. So did her voice, when in reply to the inquiry as to whether any guild business had yet been transacted, she said:
“Oh no, we always have tea first. Mrs Harrowby says it makes us feel more at”—was there or was there not a suspicion of the absence of the aspirate, instantaneously and almost obtrusively corrected?—“at—at home; not so shy about speaking out, you know.”
“Oh indeed,” said Stasy.
Then she turned again to the heavy face and the luminous eyes, in whose depths she now read a twinkle of fun.