Of course,
she admitted its charm. Could she do otherwise?
He poured the hot water into the strainer over the coffeepot, then
shutting the lid, he laid the kettle back in the grate and walked
across to the miniature, looking long and closely into it. Sally
watched him, nostrils slightly distended, lips tightly pressed. In
that moment an unwarranted jealousy almost charred her softer
feelings with its burning breath.
"There are a good many points in it, you know," he said, turning round,
"that bear a strong resemblance to you."
"Oh, but she's very pretty," said Sally.
"And you're not?" He came back to the fireplace; stood there, taking
regard of every one of her features with no attempt to conceal the
direction of his eyes. "And you're not, I suppose?" he repeated.
She smiled with an effort. "If I were, it 'ud scarcely be for me to
say. But I don't think I am. I suppose I'm not ugly. When I'm in good
spirits, I sometimes go so far as to think I'm not actually plain.
But she's pretty--really pretty." Her eyes pointed in the direction
of her last remark.
Traill leant forward, facing her, putting both hands on the arms of
the chair in which she was sitting.
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