"Plain Anne"
sweet on Violet ever since I was at school, and spent my holidays with her people. She's so pretty, you know. As pretty as paint, with fluffy hair, all golden and—oh, you should see it in the sun. It's a fair treat. And then her eyes, and her little hands, and her complexion! Talk about rose leaves!"
"I don't," said I shortly. "Suppose you cut Violet's charms and get to the horses!"
"Well," said he sadly, "you've never been in love, or you'd feel for a chap and I suppose I have told you about Violet pretty often."
"Yes," said I, "you have—too often. What about Drusilla?"
He groaned again.
"Oh," said he, "it's awful. She's charming too. A perfect peach—a regular little kitten of a girl. I can't tell you how fond I am of her. She's such good fun and so plucky—and—"
"That'll do," said I hastily. "There's no reason why you shouldn't admire her.
11
