human
Muzzie, Honor had said, meeting her alone in the morning,
gpt
It's--well, I suppose it's because I have it taken care of, said Mrs. Lorimer, flushing faintly.
human
It's not a dye. It's not in the least a dye--it simply _keeps_ the original color in the hair, that's all. I wouldn't think of using a dye. In the first place, they say it's really dangerous,--it seeps into the brain and affects your mind, and in the second place it gives your face a hard look, always,--and besides, I don't approve of it. But this thing Madame uses for me is _perfectly_ harmless, Honor.
gpt
It's perfectly charming, Muzzie, said her daughter, giving her a hearty hug. It was a good world this morning. The breakfast table was gay, and Kada beamed. Takasugi had made countless pop-overs--Honor's favorites--and Kada was slipping in and out with heaping plates of them.
human
Pop-all-overs the littlest Lorimer called them, steaming, golden-hearted. Honor had sung for them and the Old Guard the night before and even the smallest of the boys was impressed and was treating her this morning with an added deference which flowered in many passings of the marmalade and much brotherly banter. The girl herself was radiant. Nothing could be very wrong in a world like this. Suppose Jimsy had slipped once--twice--half a dozen times, when she was far away across the water? One swallow didn't make a spring and one slip (or several) didn't make a
gpt
Wild King