” It occurred to her that she had never seen her father dining out before, never watched him critically as an equal. And the change, the change of attitude! The way all the old clingingness has been thrown aside is amazing. In fact, the whole face had undergone a transformation. By this time, Jonathan and the vast mob attending him, had come up, and the place was rendered almost as light as day by the links. Got the day off. He relayed many details of the location and the beautiful rivers of her home, a subject she never tired of. "To—to—no matter what," returned the widow distractedly. "Often. "Tell me, what did they call you?" "Well, the old Kanaka cook used to call me the Golden One, but the natives called me the Dawn Pearl. But a doll that rolled its eyes and had flaxen hair! Except for the manual labour—there had been natives to fetch and carry—she and Cosette were sisters in loneliness. She was dressed in a simple evening gown of soft creamy silk, with a yoke of dark old embroidery that enhanced the gentle gravity of her style, and her black hair flowed off her open forehead to pass under the control of a simple ribbon of silver. The girl’s eyes never left his face. So the world is choked with waste and waiting daughters.
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