“Suppose you call me by my proper name,” she said quietly. There was already a score or more of people there, some standing up and talking together, others seated in chairs ranged along the wall. Supper was over. There are so many girls nowadays who are quite unpresentable at tea, with their untrimmed laughs, their awful dispositions of their legs when they sit down, their slangy disrespect; they no longer smoke, it is true, like the girls of the eighties and nineties, nevertheless to a fine intelligence they have the flavor of tobacco. Two children, who had been caught in the jam-closet: ingratiating smiles, back of which lay doubt and fear. But the survey was satisfactory, and she found herself presently in Room No. It was fortunate that by this time Winifred had so far recovered, as to be able to afford her father the best and only solace that, under the circumstances, he could have received,—her personal attentions. Those who lived outside the law might squabble among themselves, even unto death, Leonardo told her.
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