Certainly it is Shirley. Who else has a shape so lithe, and proud, and graceful? And her face, too, is visible--her countenance careless and pensive, and musing and mirthful, and mocking and tender. Not fearing the dew, she has not covered her head; her curls are free--they veil her neck and caress her shoulder with their tendril rings. An ornament of gold gleams through the half-closed folds of the scarf she has wrapped across her bust, and a large bright gem glitters on the white hand which confines it. Yes, that is Shirley.
Her companion then is, of course, Mrs. Pryor?
Yes, if Mrs. Pryor owns six feet of stature, and if she has changed her decent widow's weeds for masculine disguise. The figure walking at Miss Keeldar's side is a man--a tall, young, stately man; it is her tenant, Robert Moore.

Certainly it is Shirley. Who else has a shape so lithe, and proud, and graceful? And her face, too, is visible - careless and pensive, mocking and tender. Her curls caress her shoulder with their tendril rings. That is Shirley.
Her companion then is, of course, Mrs. Pryor?
Yes, if Mrs. Pryor is six feet tall, and is wearing men's clothes. The figure walking at Miss Keeldar's side is a tall young man; it is her tenant, Robert Moore.
