stage if she only cared to. If you asked her I'm pretty sure
she'd say, 'What nonsense!' Mildred's the dearest, finest thing
anywhere, but you won't find out many things about her by asking
her."

Russell's expression became more serious, as it did whenever his
cousin was made their topic. "You think not?" he said. "You
think she's----"

"No. But it's not because she isn't sincere exactly. It's only
because she has such a lot to live up to. She has to live up to
being a girl on the grand style to herself, I mean, of course."
And without pausing Alice rippled on, "You ought to have seen ME
when I had the stage-fever! I used to play 'Juliet' all alone in
my room." She lifted her arms in graceful entreaty, pleading
musically,

"O, swear not by the moon, the inconstant moon,
That monthly changes in her circled orb,
Lest thy love prove----"


She broke off abruptly with a little flourish, snapping thumb and
finger of each outstretched hand, then laughed and said, "Papa
used to make such fun of me! Thank heaven, I was only fifteen; I
was all over it by the next year."

"No wonder you had the fever," Russell observed. "You do it
beautifully. Why didn't you finish the line?"