Daisy Miller

rustled her skirts in the corkscrew staircases, flirted back with a pretty little cry and a shudder from the edge of the oubliettes, and turned a singularly well-shaped ear to everything that Winterbourne told her about the place.

She looked at him a moment and then burst into a little laugh. "I like to make you say those things!

He had been a little afraid that she would talk loud, laugh overmuch, and even, perhaps, desire to move about the boat a good deal. But he quite forgot his fears; he sat smiling, with his eyes upon her face, while, without moving from her place, she delivered herself of a great number of original reflections

pretty companion's distinguished air

aisy Miller was extremely animated, she was in charming spirits; but she was apparently not at all excited; she was not fluttered; she avoided neither his eyes nor those of anyone else; she blushed neither when she looked at him nor when she felt that people were looking at her.

even allowing for her habitual sense of freedom,

as he looked at her dress and, on the great staircase, her little rapid, confiding step, he felt as if there were something romantic going forward

pretty figure, dressed in the perfection of a soberly elegant traveling costume.

I hope you are disappointed, or disgusted, or something!"

"Oh, I hoped you would make a fuss!" said Daisy. "I don't care to go now."