They were astonished. They said nothing in their astonishment,
but stood quite still, arm in arm, staring down at her.
She too had on a white frock, and her head was bare. They had
had no idea that day in London, when her hat was down to her nose and
her furs were up to her ears, that she was so pretty. They had merely
thought her different from the other women in the club, and so had
the other women themselves, and so had all the waitresses, eyeing her
sideways and eyeing her again as they passed the corner where she
sat talking; but they had had no idea she was so pretty. She was
exceedingly pretty. Everything about her was very much that which it
was. Her fair hair was very fair, her lovely grey eyes were very
lovely and grey, her dark eyelashes were very dark, her white skin was
very white, her red mouth was very red. She was extravagantly slender--
the merest thread of a girl, though not without little curves beneath
her thin frock where little curves should be. She was looking out
across the bay, and was sharply defined against the background of empty
blue. She was full in the sun. Her feet dangled among the leaves and
flowers of the lilies just as if it did not matter that they should be
bent or bruised.
"She ought to have a headache," whispered Mrs.
Pages:
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90