I can see myself reflected in the long mirror before me , and I really think my appearance will satisfy even Gus Sinclair 's critical eye . I am pale , as usual , I never have any colour . That used to be one of Jack 's grievances . He likes pink and white milkmaidish girls . My `` magnificent pallor '' did n't suit him at all . But , what is more to the purpose , it suits Gus Sinclair . He admires the statuesque style . * * * * * Montreal , Jan. 20 , 18 -- . Here it is a whole month since my last entry . I am sitting here decked out in `` gloss of satin and glimmer of pearls '' for Mrs. Currie 's dance . These few minutes , after I emerge from the hands of my maid and before the carriage is announced , are almost the only ones I ever have to myself . I am having a good time still . Somehow , though , it is n't as exciting as it used to be . I 'm afraid I 'm very changeable . I believe I must be homesick . I 'd love to get a glimpse of dear old Thrush Hill and Aunt Elizabeth , and J -- but , no ! I will not write that . Mr. Sinclair has not spoken yet , but there is no doubt that he soon will . Of course , I shall accept him when he does , and I coolly told Alicia so when she just as coolly asked me what I meant to do . `` Certainly , I shall marry him , '' I said crossly , for the subject always irritates me .
`` Have n't I been laying myself out all winter XXXXX catch him ?
after as at before for from in of since to