The stranger was so sure of it Miss Kite
determined to put it to the test. One evening, an hour before dinner,
there entered the drawing-room, when the stranger only was there and
before the gas was lighted, a pleasant, good-looking lady, somewhat
pale, with neatly-arranged brown hair, who demanded of the stranger if
he knew her. All her body was trembling, and her voice seemed
inclined to run away from her and become a sob. But when the
stranger, looking straight into her eyes, told her that from the
likeness he thought she must be Miss Kite's younger sister, but much
prettier, it became a laugh instead: and that evening the
golden-haired Miss Kite disappeared never to show her high-coloured
face again; and what perhaps, more than all else, might have impressed
some former habitue of Forty-eight Bloomsbury Square with awe, it was
that no one in the house made even a passing inquiry concerning her.
Sir William's cousin the stranger thought an acquisition to any
boarding-house. A lady of high-class family! There was nothing
outward or visible perhaps to tell you that she was of high-class
family. She herself, naturally, would not mention the fact, yet
somehow you felt it. Unconsciously she set a high-class tone,
diffused an atmosphere of gentle manners. Not that the stranger had
said this in so many words; Sir William's cousin gathered that he
thought it, and felt herself in agreement with him.
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