With her shining eyes and her crimson cheeks and
lips she looked the Allegro of her morning's Penseroso. The young
doctor took a station where he would not be remarked, and, forgetting
Mrs. Felton's sage advice, kept his eyes fixed on the graceful girl.
She gave him the impression of one who had been brought up in some
foreign land, where public opinion is more exacting and the bounds of
propriety more restricted than in ours. She was clearly a favorite
among the ladies with whom she conversed. Several middle-aged
gentlemen approached her with their wives and met a kind reception,
but she avoided young men with a perversity that was amusing. In a
person speaking to her he recognized an acquaintance, and, awaiting
his opportunity, addressed him. After the first salutations he asked,
"Mr. Allen, do you know Miss Lafitte?"
"From a child: her father is my oldest friend."
"Was she educated abroad?"
"Bless you! no: she is altogether American in training."
"Isn't she rather peculiar?" ventured Maurice.
"If by peculiar you mean the sweetest girl in the world, she is that,"
replied the old man enthusiastically.
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