The girl dimpled, and dropped him a little curtsy, half ironical and wholly graceful.
Peter was charmed.
"Now keep that way, Cissie, smiling and human, not so grammatical. I wish I had a brooch."
"A brooch?"
"I'd give it to you. Your dress needs a brooch, an old gold brooch at the bosom, just a glint there to balance your eyes."
Cissie flushed happily, and made the feminine movement of concealing the V-shaped opening at her throat.
"It's a pleasure to doll up for a man like you, Peter. You see a girl's good points—if she has any," she tacked on demurely.
"Oh, just any man—"
"Don't think it! Don't think it!" waved down Cissie, humorously.
"But, Cissie, how is it possible—"