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And she thought of her recent behavior in the
Grotto, and laughed aloud. She was so very slim, too. The word woman
suggested to her some one more bulky than she was. But all that was
absurd, of course. She was thinking very frivolously to-day.
She put on her dress and fastened it. At the age of sixteen she had
put up her hair, but now it was still wet, and she had left it
streaming over her shoulders. In a moment she was going out onto the
cliff to let the sun dry it thoroughly. The sun was so much better
than any towel. With her hair down she really looked like a child,
whatever Gaspare thought. She said that to herself, standing for a
moment before the glass. Vere was almost as divinely free from self-
consciousness as her father had been. But the conversation in the boat
had made her think of herself very seriously, and now she considered
herself, not without keen interest.
"I am certainly not a wicked baby," she said to herself. "But I don't
think I look at all like a woman.


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