CHAPTER XI. THE BEST LAID PLANS
I
“ She’s—she’s a real Botticelli,” said the young man dreamily, as he watched the figure of William’s sister, Ethel, disappearing into the distance.
William glared at him.
“ Bottled cherry yourself!” he said indignantly. “She can’t help having red hair, can she? No more’n you can help havin’—havin’——” his eye wandered speculatively over the young man in search of physical defects—“having big ears,” he ended.
The young man did not resent the insult. He did not even hear it. His eyes were still fixed upon the slim figure in the distance.
“‘ Eyes of blue and hair red-gold,’” he said softly. “Red-gold. I had to put that because it’s got both colours in it. Red-gold, ‘Eyes of blue and hair red-gold.’ What rhymes with gold?”
“ Cold,” suggested Will
