"For what do you take me?" Mrs. Tregent exclaimed, with a smile which lightened up for him intensely that far-away troubled past as to which she had originally baffled his inquiry.
The joy of perceiving in an aversion to himself a possible motive for Arthur's absence was so great in him that before he took leave of her he ventured to say to his old friend, "Does he like her at all?"
"He likes her very much."
Maurice remembered how much he had liked Fanny Knocker and been willing to admit it to his mother; but he presently observed, "Of course he can't think her in the least pretty."
"As you say, she's an angel," Mrs. Tregent rejoined.
"She would pass for one better if she were a few inches taller."
"It doesn't matter," said Mrs. Tregent.
"One must remember that in that respect, at her age, she won't change," Maurice pursued, wondering after he had spoken whether he had pressed upon the second pronoun.
"No, she won't change. But she's a dar-