The wayward, playful, affectionate nature, giddy for want of the weight of some sustaining purpose, and capricious because it was always fluttering among little things, was yet a captivating one. To Lizzie it was so new, so pretty, at once so womanly and so childish, that it won her completely. And when Bella said again, “Do you think you could, Lizzie?” with her eyebrows raised, her head inquiringly on one side, and an odd doubt about it in her own bosom, Lizzie showed beyond all question that she thought she could.

“Tell me, my dear,” said Bella, “what is the matter, and why you live like this.”

Lizzie presently began, by way of prelude, “You must have many lovers⁠—” when Bella checked her with a little scream of astonishment.

“My dear, I haven’t one!”

“Not one?”