Phyllis

I nod my head and try to concentrate on what Phyllis is telling me, but my eye keeps wandering across her yard.

I groaned, my nerves quivering under the pitying eye of the cabman, and the early-Christian-martyr expression of Phyllis.

This was the first quarrel that he had ever had with Phyllis.

Phyllis kept her face straight, and slipped one persuasive hand through her friend's arm.

In the morning Phyllis showed traces of having spent a bad night.

Phyllis knew that they must both be washed and dressed before she would have another chance to peep at her precious letter.