To Cowperwood she seemed to float, so hale and graceful was she.

A smart youth in blue serge coat, white trousers, and white shoes drove by in a high-seated trap.
"Two letters for you," he called, in a high, almost falsetto voice.

"I thought you would have eight or nine.

Blessed hot, isn't it ?" He had a smart though somewhat effeminate manner, and Cowperwood at once wrote him down as an ass.

Berenice took the mail with an engaging smile.
She sauntered past him reading, without so much as a glance.