Some people were talking on the veranda outside her window, and she heard one say: "The girl can look really stunning." "Exactly.

I don't understand where she gets her looks, for her parents are--impossible.

Wouldn't you _know_ what they were ?" Allie needed no clearer indication of who was under discussion.
Instinctive resentment at the reference to her father and mother was followed by amazement, delight, at the compliment to herself--the first she had ever received.

She leaned forward, straining to hear more.

What mattered it how these contemptuous outsiders referred to her parents?
They agreed that she was "stunning," which was their way of saying that she was pretty, nay, more--beautiful, perhaps.
"She's a glorious rider," the first speaker was saying.