No sooner is he in than he gapes out of the window open-mouthed at Miss S----.

She wears a light Ulster to protect her dress from the dust and dirt of travel.

Her fashionable hat has an air of the West End; her gloved hand holds a dainty little bag; she steps as those must do who wear tight dresses and high heels to their boots.

Up goes her parasol instantly to shade her delicate complexion from the glaring sun.
Master Jack does not even take her hand, or kiss her; he looks her up and down with a kind of contemptuous admiration, nods, and asks how much luggage?
He has, you see, been repulsed for 'gush' on previous occasions.
Mademoiselle points to her luggage, which the porter, indeed, has already taken out.

He worked in his boyhood on her father's farm, and attends upon her with cheerful alacrity.