Missy felt constrained to
cast a look at the Honourable Ridgeley Holman Dobson.
Well, he was rather handsome, in a way--one had to admit that; he
was younger than you expect lecturers to be, and tall and slender,
with awfully goodlooking clothes, and had dark eyes and a noticeable
smile--too noticeable to be entirely sincere and spontaneous, Missy
decided.
He began to speak, about something that didn't seem particularly
interesting to Missy; so she didn't pay much attention to what he
was saying, but just sat there listening to the pleasing flow of his
voice and noting the graceful sweep of his hands--she must remember
that effective gesture of the palm held outward and up. And she
liked the way, now and then, he threw his head back and paused and
smiled.
Suddenly she caught herself smiling, almost as if in response, and
quickly put on a sternly grave look. This woman-kissing siren!--or
whatever you call men that are like women sirens. Well, she, for
one, wouldn't fall for his charms! She wouldn't rush up and knock
other women down to kiss him!
She was flaunting her disapproval before her as a sort of banner
when, finally, the lecturer came to an end and the audience began
their noisy business of getting out of their seats.
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