Katy had sneered at her for a moment, their eyes locking. "Quick. Michelle waved to her, then flitted over to where she was sitting. She would be elemental; there would be in her somewhere the sleeping tigress. There was a moment’s breathless and disappointed silence. “I wonder what he takes me for?” When presently she got down from the stile a certain note of internal conflict, a touch of doubt, had gone from her warm-tinted face. You know they say, as, indeed, I have just quoted already, that all bad poetry is written in a state of emotion, but I have no doubt that this is true of bad offers of marriage. "Give me till to-morrow," implored she, "and if I can bring myself to part with him, you shall have him without another word.
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