Almost at once she had comprehended that she was expected to write down her name and address, which she did, in slanting cobwebby lettering, perhaps a trifle laboriously. She posed herself before her mirror and surveyed herself with gravely thoughtful, gravely critical, and yet admiring eyes. She felt that she had passed a difficult corner, and that now she could go on talking with him again, just as she had been used to do before she understood what was the matter with her. She had resisted as long as she could; then she had stolen over. All this was exciting and entertaining. I am almost old enough to be your father.
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