You were
extraordinarily, really perplexingly like your father then. A miniature
edition, but so faithful to the original it used, sometimes, to give me
the quaintest jump."
Henrietta mused, raising one hand and fingering the lace at her throat
as seeking to loosen it. Damaris watched fascinated, in a way
troubled, by her extreme prettiness. Every point, every detail was so
engagingly complete.
"You are like Sir Charles still; but I see something which is not
him--the personal equation, I suppose, developing in you, the element
which is individual, exclusively your own and yourself. I should enjoy
exploring that."
She looked at Damaris very brightly for an instant, then looked down.
"I want to hear more about Sir Charles," she said. "Of all the
distinguished men I have been fortunate enough to know, who--who have let
me be their friend, no one has ever interested me more than he. We have
known one another ever since I was a girl and his career meant so much to
me. I followed it closely, rejoiced in his promotion, his successes; felt
indignant--and said so--when he met with adverse criticism.
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