But, then, she was not really a big girl; her figure was short and stumpy, her features plain and pale with the pallor of her first Indian year.

Her eyes were large and black and rather fine.
On this morning she lay in bed, and knew that she was excited because her friend had come the night before and told her that to-day would be an important day.

Angelina clung, with a desperate tenacity, to her memories of everything that happened to her before her arrival on this unpleasant planet.

Those memories now were growing faint, and they came to her only in flashes, in sudden twists and turns of the scene, as though she were surrounded by curtains and, every now and then, was allowed a peep through.

Her friend had been with her continually at first, and, whilst he had been there, the old life had been real and visible enough; but on her second birthday he had told her that it was right now that she should manage by herself.