Her eyes were of that peculiar, very dark, very deep blue, which seems to be an Irish girl's special gift. Her eyelashes were thick and black, her complexion a fresh white and pink, her chestnut hair grew in thick, curly abundance all over her well-shaped head. Her beautifully cut lips wore a petulant but charming expression. There was a provocative, almost teasing, self-confidence about her, which to certain minds only added to her queer fascination.
"Hurrah! Hurrah! Supper!" she cried. "Your committee must keep, Janet. Now for the satisfaction of rampant, raging curiosity. Dolly, will you race me to the house?"
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"Pretty," interrupted Janet, scorn curling her lip.
"Love me," she pleaded; "do love me, for I love you."
"Oh, don't I!" said Janet, stamping her small foot.
"I ought not to speak," said Dorothy, turning very red, "but if you are going to be hard on Bridget——"