But, perhaps Mr. Inside was Anna, leaning a little forward to watch the passers-by, bright-eyed, full to the brim of the insatiable curiosity of youth—the desire to understand and appreciate this new world in which she found herself. ‘Merely making a useful contact. Edgeworth Bess wore a scarlet tabby negligée,—a sort of undress, or sack, then much in vogue,—which suited her to admiration, and upon her head had what was called a fly-cap, with richly-laced lappets. She then opened Lucy’s meager closet and plucked out a pair of heeled boots usually reserved for weddings and funerals. “A little touchy this evening, aren’t we, Missy?” Michelle chided her friend. He pointed to where the lights still burned in Anna’s windows.
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