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If it was wrong, it was certainly a very
small one, judging from the size of the hand.
"I was so mortified! But if it's you it's all right."
Peter thought this mood of the girl was both delightful and
complimentary, but he failed to understand anything of it, except its
general friendliness. His manner may have suggested this, for suddenly
the girl said:
"But of course, you do not know who I am? How foolish of me! I am
Leonore D'Alloi."
It was Peter's turn to gasp. "Not--?" he began and then stopped.
"Yes," said the girl joyfully, as if Peter's "not" had had something
delightful in it.
"But--she's a child."
"I'll be eighteen next week," said Leonore, with all the readiness of
that number of years to proclaim its age.
Peter concluded that he must accept the fact. Watts could have a child
that old. Having reached this conclusion, he said, "I ought to have
known you by your likeness to your mother." Which was an unintentional
lie. Her mother's eyes she had, as well as the long lashes; and she had
her mother's pretty figure, though she was taller.


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