"I should think my beauty
Would serve me better," said Deslin
Would serve me better," said Deslin
While preening herself
Before a looking glass
That was far too big
For but one soul.
"I should think it has," said Dai,
"Mr. Thomas Shawl is lovely,"
She leaned in her chair
Returning her attention
To the conversation of her book
That was more interesting.
"Oh, I suppose he's desirable
After the human kind," Deslin
Begrudgingly acknowledged it,
"But what I truly fancy
Is a contanence of blue,"
Her smile broadened longingly.
"Oh dear," Dai sighed distastefully,
"Not that dreadful Beedan
You always carry on about,"
She frowned, "you'll loose
The better catch for pining."
"If you fancy Thomas so,
Why don't you take him?"
She snapped, so Dai,
"If you muck it up, I shall surely
Snatch him away when I'm of age,
You dreadful socialite."
"I say take him if you fancy him so,"
Deslin defied her with dismissal,
So Dai, "Next moon I am of age
And if you have not secured him
By then you never will, so I
Will certainly welcome his interest."
"We shall see if you actually do,"
Was Deslin's distracted answer
As she primmed her dress at the waist
Then played with her hair,
And she did not know her sister
Was quite true in her intentions.
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