Now as she sat there pensive, the full-lidded eyes fixed unseeing upon a bowl of early lilies, one wondered what unutterable, deep, maiden thoughts held her thus absorbed, with slightly parted lips, motionless save for the rise and fall of the low girlish breast.
And once she gave a little sigh and into her soft brown eyes under the long gold lashes stole a light of warm content.
Her mother glanced up from the book upon her knee as the faint sound broke through the silence of the room; a tall, gaunt woman with an energetic face under the plaited coronet of iron-gray hair.
"What are you dreaming about, Cydonia?"
The girl in the window slowly turned her head.
"I was thinking, Madre dear, if the Bishop is coming to lunch that Mrs. Nix will send us up a pine-apple cream. She always remembers that it's his favourite dish."
She gave a little laugh, musical and low.
"I like pine-apple cream." The curved lips closed.
A slight frown showed between Mrs. Cadell's eyes behind the pince-nez that nipped her high-arched nose.
"You don't seem to be getting on very quickly with your work."