One day they were at tea in the laboratory and a discussion sprang up about the question of women’s suffrage. Coolly and gingerly, she kissed it as it stood at its hard angle from his body. She disengaged her hands and stood up. Then she burst into a peal of laughter. A Madame Valade and her husband. “When did you get home last night, Lucy?” Cathy interrogated through a yawn. She had delicate oval features, light, laughing blue eyes, a pretty nez retroussé, (why have we not the term, since we have the best specimens of the feature?) teeth of pearly whiteness, and a brilliant complexion, set off by rich auburn hair, a very white neck and shoulders,—the latter, perhaps, a trifle too much exposed. She could tell that he probably wanted to kiss her, but she did not act upon the opportunity.
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