She was darker than her brother--so dark
that her heavily coiled hair seemed to be black until the light
shone slantwise across it. The delicate, half-petulant features, the
finely traced brows, and the thoughtful, humorous eyes were all perfect
in their way, and yet the combination left something to be desired.
There was a vague sense of a flaw somewhere, in feature or in
expression, which resolved itself, when analysed, into a slight
out-turning and droop of the lower lip; small indeed, and yet pronounced
enough to turn what would have been a beautiful face into a merely
pretty one. Very despondent and somewhat cross she looked as she leaned
back in the armchair, the tangle of bright-coloured silks and of drab
holland upon her lap, her hands clasped behind her head, with her snowy
forearms and little pink elbows projecting on either side.
"I know he won't come," she repeated.
"Nonsense, Laura! Of course he'll come. A sailor and afraid of the
weather!"
"Ha!" She raised her finger, and a smile of triumph played over her
face, only to die away again into a blank look of disappointment.
"It is only papa," she murmured.
A shuffling step was heard in the hall, and a little peaky man, with his
slippers very much down at the heels, came shambling into the room.
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