’ There was a silence. “What’s that young lady’s name—girl in dark brown, stranger here?” Mr. Would she ever find it? Sighing, she opened the door to the next room, and drew back the drapes. He was a Wiltshire Edmondshaw, a very old family. Plain, wide-mouthed, freckled, and ugly, she was an instantly jealous creature, her saving grace that she took no pains to mask her extreme dislike 47 of petite, pretty girls. A few short, dark locks, escaping from beneath her head-dress, showed that her hair had been removed, and had only been recently allowed to grow again. She wore the most expensive athletic shoes money could buy in a fashionable black color with neon green laces.
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