She could see that she was now the exclusive object of the boy’s attention. She fell with a plop onto her rear end in the mud and sat dumbly like a statue, water eddying around her. The struggle had dislodged the white wimple, which was evidently too large for her, and her black hair broke free, whirling like a whiplash about her head as her hands curled into fists, coming up to beat at his chest, her little teeth bared for attack. Come into the parlour, Winifred, and dry your eyes directly, or I'll send you to bed. She resolved to walk across the Park to the Zoological gardens, and so on by way of Primrose Hill to Hampstead Heath. And she had not dressed herself in this habit of a blue so much like the sky just for his sake, no matter that Lucy had said how much this colour suited with her eyes.
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