He had found her by the same agency her father had: native talk, which flew from isle to isle as fast as proas could carry it. “The point is we’re not toys, toys isn’t the word; we’re litter. Oh! I'm in such a fluster!" Upon which, she snatched up her fan, cast a look into the glass, smoothed down her scarf, threw a soft expression into her features, and led the way into the next room, whither she was followed by her daughter and Thames Darrell. She thought gleefully of the dress she would get to wear for the Ball (Prom?) and could not wait to tell her foster family about how excited she was. If I had known that you had meant to talk like this I wouldn’t have come here. He was no Hoddy, but a tremendous man, with hairy arms and bearded face and drink-shattered intellect. In the old days he had been something of an athlete—a runner, an oarsman, and a crack at tennis. ‘Your niece, ma’am.
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