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"Well, but it was a little hard on your father, wasn't it?" says Mona, gently. But Mickey is not to be outdone. "An' there's the pigs, miss," he begins again, presently. "Well, that is in her favor, I really think," says Violet, in her most unprejudiced manner. "If she were to leave off her rococo toilettes, and take to Elise or Worth like other people, and give up posing, and try to behave like a rational being, she might almost be called handsome.".
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"Is—is Violet Mansergh a pretty girl?" asks Mona, grasping instinctively at the fact that any one called Violet Mansergh may be a possible rival. "And see what we gained by our haste," says Dorothy, smiling at Mona. "You can't think what a charming sight it was. Like an old legend or a fairy-tale. Was it a minuet you were dancing?" It is a drooping blackberry-leaf from a bush near where she is standing, that has turned from green into a warm and vivid crimson. She examines it minutely, as though lost in wonder at its excessive beauty, for beautiful exceedingly it is, clothed in the rich cloak that Autumn's generosity has flung upon it; yet I think, she for once is blind to its charms. "She whom I wish to marry belongs to the Sun," said Scarface; "I am trying to find where he lives, so that I may ask him for her.".
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