I seemed to have known that voice all my life--and it was only the merry laugh of a heedless girl.
Has any listened to the prattle of the schoolroom without hearing at odd moments the tone of some note that is not girlish--the voice of the woman speaking gravely through the chatter of the child?
I seemed to hear that note now, and turning, found the owner of the voice within touch of me.

She was tall and slim, with a certain fresh immaturity, which was like the scent of the first spring flowers in my own Norfolk woods at home.

Flower-like, too, was her face--somewhat long and narrow, with a fair flush on it of youth, health and happiness.

The merriest eyes in the world were looking laughingly into the face of an old gentleman at her side, smiling, happy eyes of innocent maidenhood.

And yet here again I saw the woman in the girl.