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Updated: November 9, 2024
It had grown massively graceful. The former thatch of half-curly and indeterminately yellowish fuzz had changed to a rough tawny coat, wavy and unbelievably heavy, stippled at the ends with glossy black. There was a strange depth and repose and Soul in the dark eyes yes, and a keen intelligence, too. It was the old story of the Ugly Duckling, all over again. "Why!" gasped the Mistress.
"Oh, but I can't give you to-morrow! The bridal party's going on an all-day motor trip." Julius ran his hand through the crisp, half-curly locks of his black hair. "Cut it out. You don't need to be on every last one of their junketings. Get 'em to let you off for to-morrow." "I can't possibly. I'm to be maid of honour, you know. Irene would never forgive me, nor some of the others."
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