"I'll never forget you with that white-and-gold thing round your head," Elliott told Christabel, taking her home. "You've never looked so lovely. Listen! Why don't we go back and borrow it from Donatia and you come over tomorrow morning and let me do a sketch of you? Come on!"
"Oh, we can't go back now!"
"Why not? We haven't been gone five minutes. She won't be in bed or anything."
"I don't think she'll want to lend it to me."
"She'll love to lend it to you."
"I'm afraid not. I wouldn't say this to anyone in the world but you, Elliott, but Donatia hasn't been very kind to me."
"Now you're doing her an injustice. You feel things that aren't intended, you're so sensitive and tender-hearted."
"Do I, Elliott? Perhaps you're right. Perhaps I am unjust to her. Anyway, I feel that you're a very understanding person, and if you say so, we'll go back."
Donatia's face was scarlet as she opened the
