“Then she held the skirt against her slender hips to show me how short it was, and pointed her foot in an instinctive dance position.
“She was holding up the bodice by tucking it under her chin. I looked at her, and she blushed, and convinced me that no woman ever stands altogether innocent of coquetry before any man.
“‘Tell me more about your grandmother,’ I said.
“‘It’s so long ago,’ she replied. ‘She had two children, and one was my father’s father, and the other was Rawdon Westmacott’s mother. You know my cousin Rawdon?’
“‘I know him,’ I said. ‘So you and he are of different generations, though there’s not more than twelve years between you in age.’
“‘Yes, that’s so. Now I come to think of it, there’s the old book in the parlour you might like to read, a diary or something, kept by my great-grandfather. It’s only an old thing; I’ve never looked on it myself, but I’ve heard father talk of it. Shall I get it for you?’
“I begged that she would do so, and she ran downstairs, and returned with a little tartan-covered volume in her hand.
“‘Father sets great store by it,’ she said hesitatingly, as she gave it up to me.
“‘He won’t object to my reading it?’
“‘Oh, no, if you’ve a mind.’