Page:What Maisie Knew (Chicago & New York, Herbert S. Stone & Co., 1897).djvu/102

88, her violent splendor, the wonderful color of her lips, and even the hard stare, like that of some gorgeous idol described in a story-book, that had come into her eyes in consequence of a curious thickening of their already rich circumference. Her professions and explanations were mixed with eager challenges and sudden drops, in the midst of which Maisie recognized, as a memory of other years, the rattle of her trinkets and the scratch of her endearments, the odor of her clothes and the jumps of her conversation. She had all her old, clever way—Mrs. Wix said it was "aristocratic"—of changing the subject as she might have slammed the door in your face. The principal thing that was different was the tint of her golden hair, which had changed to a coppery red and, with the head it profusely covered, struck the child as now lifted still further aloft. This picturesque parent showed literally a grander stature and an ampler presence; things which, with some others that might have been bewildering, were handsomely accounted for by the romantic state of her affections. It was her affections, Maisie could easily see, that led Ida to break out into questions as to what had passed,