“I’m six hundred and forty-eight, John, but guess how old I look? Fifteen. Miss Stanley had determined from the outset to have the warmest affection for her youngest niece and to be a second mother in her life—a second and a better one; but she had found much to battle with, and there was much in herself that Ann Veronica failed to understand. With thinly veiled glee, Michelle described a rumor she had heard about John at a recent party. She saw herself building up a life upon that —a life restrained, kindly, beautiful, a little pathetic and altogether dignified; a life of great disciplines and suppressions and extensive reserves. She leaves town to-morrow.
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