and I went out for our walk, we took the little girl (who is just eleven years old) to the school that very day.’”
Once more Miss Fairlie’s figure, bright and soft in its snowy muslin dress—her face prettily framed by the white folds of the handkerchief which she had tied under her chin—passed by us in the moonlight. Once more Miss Halcombe waited till she was out of sight, and then went on—
“‘I have taken a violent fancy, Philip, to my new scholar, for a reason which I mean to keep till the
by that time, and we will occupy the afternoon in driving round the neighbourhood and showing you all our pet points of view. Till two o’clock, then, farewell.”
She nodded to me with the lively grace, the delightful refinement of familiarity, which characterised all that she did and all that she said;