"Where were you, sir?
Madam West was here, and my Lady Temperance Yeardley, and Master Wynne, and Master Thorpe from Henricus, and Master Rolfe with his Indian brother,--who, I protest, needs but silk doublet and hose and a month at Whitehall to make him a very fine gentleman." "If courage, steadfastness, truth, and courtesy make a gentleman," I said, "he is one already.

Such an one needs not silk doublet nor court training." She looked at me with her bright eyes.

"No," she repeated, "such an one needs not silk doublet nor court training." Going to the fire, she stood with one hand upon the mantelshelf, looking down into the ruddy hollows.
Presently she stooped and gathered up something from the hearth.

"You waste paper strangely, Captain Percy," she said.

"Here is a whole handful of torn pieces." She came over to the table, and with a laugh showered the white fragments down upon it, then fell to idly piecing them together.