extreme difficulty on either side. Miss Thesiger's appearance and her
manner were perfect; but they didn't suggest by any sign or shade that
she was a young woman seeking employment, that she was a young woman
seeking anything; but rather that she was a young woman to whom all
things naturally came.

She approached me very slowly. Her adorable little salutation, with all
its maturity, its gravity, was somehow essentially young. She was rather
tall, and her figure had the same serious maturity in youth. She carried
her small head high, and held her shoulders well back, so that she got a
sort of squareness into the divine slope of them (people hadn't begun to
slouch forward from the hips in those days), a squareness that agreed
somehow with the character of her small face. I didn't know then whether
it was a pretty face or not. I daresay it was a bit too odd and square
for prettiness, and, as for beauty, that had all gone into the lines of
her body (which _was_ beautiful, if you like). When you looked carefully,
you got a little square, white forehead, and straight eyebrows of the
same darkness as her hair, and very distinct on the white, and eyes also
very dark and distinct, and fairly crystalline with youth; and a little
white and very young nose that started straight and ended absurdly in a
little soft knob that had a sort of kink in it; and a mouth which would
have been too large for her face if it hadn't made room for itself by
tilting up at the corners; and then a little square white chin and jaw;
they were thrust forward, but so lightly and slenderly that it didn't
matter. It doesn't sound--does it?--as if she could have been pretty, let
alone beautiful; and yet--and yet she managed that little head of hers
and that little odd face so as to give an impression of beauty or of
prettiness. It was partly the oddness of the face and head, coming on the
top of all that symmetry, that perfection, that made the total effect of
her so bewildering. I can't find words for the total effect (I don't know