Marsden’s time would come. But now, the child’s senses opened miraculously wide to Rhoda. With Rhoda, a new Adelaide was as well created. But in the counterpoint played by these sisters upon Quincy, the elder had the upper hand. It was the common mistake of most people to call Rhoda the prettier of the two. Such are the triumphs of an aggressive spirit. For although the younger girl was essentially the finer girl, her subdued nature shone forth badly beside the obvious brilliance of her sister. Rhoda was tall and dark; Adelaide was short and blonde. Rhoda’s eyes were large, brown, pent-up always with whatever mood possessed her. Adelaide’s eyes were small and their blue was unobtrusive; their spirit was diffident; their suggestion of an Oriental tilt seemed somehow to conceal itself. They were set deep and soft, seclusively almost. And the angle of their position with the faint thickness of their lids, the short fringe of golden lash above them (a sign of delicacy for who understood), served with most persons as an excuse for not noticing her at all. Rhoda’s eyes, on the other hand, squarely, unimaginatively set, came forward to command. At eighteen, it was obvious to her mother that she was to be what she herself termed a “belle.” To Quincy, Rhoda became now, by degrees, a dominant and estimable figure. The evolution of this from early hatred and mistrust, through the period of apathy when Jonas had foregathered his affections, was of course not a conscious one. But gradually, Rhoda entered his dreams, later his thoughts--came in some way to merge with them and to be welcome there. The sporadic walks which she took in Central Park with Adelaide and him grew to be hours of anticipation. During them, this tall glamorous creature that lived so near seemed to relax from her haughty state and to be willing to consort with him. Upon one occasion, he had chanced to see her as she was dressing. Rhoda had seemed unconcerned enough at this momentous incident. She had crossed her hands quickly upon her breasts, cried: “Go away!”--and been otherwise unmoved. In the shock of his amazement and swift retreat, he had seen little. Yet that little remained long, branded within the texture of his mind. He had not forgotten the event,--although he had no idea of what, exactly, he remembered.