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AUTHOR OF “SUN, MOON, AND STARS;” “THE UPWARD GAZE;
“Be good, sweet maid, and let who will be clever."
In the fading twilight of an autumn afternoon a young girl sat in the bow-window of a London house, stooping, or more correctly huddled forwards, over her book.
The house was in a good locality, though not large. A small front garden and a neat stone porch were matched by a long vista of similar gardens and porches, extending to right and left.
The young girl might have been fifteen years old, or even more, though under the usual height. In figure she was slim, not to say scraggy, and there was about her appearance a general negligence as to hair, collar, and dress fastenings—a kind of prevailing looseness. The intent black
devoured page after page eagerly.
Suddenly she closed the book, threw it down, and stood up.
“That tiresome boy! Why could he not make haste, for once? However, I can't put off any longer, or I shall be late for dinner. I do believe