understand my point of view at all. Father does, I believe, though he wouldn't let me know it for the world.
"I wonder if I am making a mistake? I wonder if they are right and I am wrong? I wonder if I shall be sorry? Sometimes I am afraid."
Nan suggested a yellow bird in a golden cage or a topaz in a jewel case of its own color as she moved restlessly about the room.
There was a hint of yellow in her golden-brown eyes, her brown hair was streaked with sunny tints, and she dressed oftenest in varying shades of yellow and brown. Her friends called her sometimes "The Golden Girl," and the name, as her clothes, became her.
She was not beautiful, this Golden Girl, but as Robert Ellison had said, she was unmistakably a lady. She had a certain self-effacing dignity of manner which only partially concealed an unusually high spirit, vivacity, and a keen interest in life.
She was slim and erect. One felt instinctively the suppleness and strength of her young body under its covering of clinging silk and lace cascades.
