There was, too, about her a certain gentleness, a certain
disposition to be kind, even when her inherent coquetry--natural
in the Southern girl--led her into deep waters; a certain
tenderness that made friends of even unhappy suitors (and I heard
that she could not count them on her fingers) who had asked for
more than she could give--a tenderness which healed the wound and
made lovers of them all for life.
And then her Southern speech, indescribable and impossible in cold
type. The softening of the consonants, the slipping away of the
terminals, the slurring of vowels, and all in that low, musical
voice born out side of the roar and crash of city streets and
crowded drawing-rooms with each tongue fighting for mastery.
All this Jack had taken in, besides a thousand other charms
visible only to the young enthusiast, before he had been two
minutes in her presence. As to her voice, he knew she was one of
his own people when she had finished pronouncing his name.
Somebody worthwhile had crossed his path at last!
And with this there had followed, even as he talked to her, the
usual comparisons made by all young fellows when the girl they
don't like is placed side by side with the girl they do.
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