"What do you think, Lawrence?"
He was watching her in silence.
"I don't understand it, Agatha. What have you done to her?"
"Nothing. Are you pleased?"
"You are a witch; I believe you must have a familiar somewhere. She is wonderful—wonderful!"
"Is she a ward to be proud of and to love, Lawrence? Is she the sweetest and prettiest girl you ever saw? My dear cousin, I declare to you that I think her faultless. At least, her very faults are attractive. She is impetuous and self-willed, but she is full of sympathy. And that seems to have grown up in her altogether in the last few months."
"Her manner appears to be more perfect than anything I have ever seen."
"It is because she has no self-consciousness. She is like a child still, my dear Phillis, so far."
"I wonder if it is because she cannot read? Why should we not prohibit the whole sex from learning to read?"
"Nonsense, Lawrence. What would the novelists do? Besides, she is learning to read fast. I put her this morning into the Third Lesson Book—two syllables. And it is not as if she were ignorant, because she knows a great deal."