Gwendolen rather valued herself on her superior freedom in laughing where others might only see matter for seriousness. Indeed, the laughter became her person so well that her opinion of its gracefulness was often shared by others; and it even entered into her uncle's course of thought at this moment, that it was no wonder a boy should be fascinated by this young witch--who, however, was more mischievous than could be desired.
"How can you laugh at broken bones, child?" said Mrs. Davilow, still under her dominant anxiety. "I wish we had never allowed you to have the horse. You will see that we were wrong," she added, looking with a grave nod at Mr. Gascoigne--"at least I was, to encourage her in asking for it."

Gwendolen rather valued herself on her superior freedom in laughing where others might only see matter for seriousness. Indeed, she laughed so gracefully that her opinion was often shared by others; and it even entered into her uncle's head that it was no wonder a boy should be fascinated by this young witch.
"How can you laugh at broken bones, child?" said Mrs. Davilow. "I was wrong to encourage you in asking for that horse."
