Maskull had discovered in himself. She also possessed the heart
tentacle. But when he sat up, and their eyes met and remained in
sympathetic contact, he seemed to see right into a soul that was the
home of love, warmth, kindness, tenderness, and intimacy. Such was
the noble familiarity of that gaze, that he thought he knew her.
After that, he recognised all the loveliness of her person. She was
tall and slight. All her movements were as graceful as music. Her
skin was not of a dead, opaque colour, like that of an earth beauty,
but was opalescent; its hue was continually changing, with every
thought and emotion, but none of these tints was vivid--all were
delicate, half-toned, and poetic. She had very long, loosely
plaited, flaxen hair. The new organs, as soon as Maskull had
familiarised himself with them, imparted something to her face that
was unique and striking. He could not quite define it to himself,
but subtlety and inwardness seemed added. The organs did not
contradict the love of her eyes or the angelic purity of her
features, but nevertheless sounded a deeper note--a note that saved
her from mere girlishness.

Her gaze was so friendly and unembarrassed that Maskull felt scarcely
any humiliation at sitting at her feet, naked and helpless. She
realised his plight, and put into his hands a garment that she had
been carrying over her arm. It was similar to the one she was
wearing, but of a darker, more masculine colour.

"Do you think you can put it on by yourself?"

He was distinctly conscious of these words, yet her voice had not
sounded.