"You should have christened me Delia if you had wanted me named that." "I'll try to remember, next time," he said, meekly.

His gray eyes were dancing and twinkling like sunbeams pouring from breaches in a spent storm-cloud; there was an eloquence of pleasure far beyond laughter's in the rare, infrequent eye smiles from his sober, strong face.
Now there was a squeaking and chattering behind them.

Adelaide whirled free of her father's arms and caught up the monkey.

"Put out your hand, sir," said she, and she kissed him.

Her father shuddered, so awful was the contrast between the wizened, dirty-brown face and her roselike skin and fresh fairness.