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My Friend Prospero by Henry Harland
page 33 of 217 (15%)
light-coloured garden-frock, and was bare-headed, as one belonging to
the place. She was young--two or three and twenty, by her aspect: young,
slender, of an excellent height, and, I hope you would have agreed, a
beautiful countenance. She studied the sun-dial, and smiled; and what
with her dark eyes and softly chiselled features, the pale rose in her
cheeks and the deeper rose of her mouth, with her hair too, almost black
in shadow, but where the sun touched it turning to sombre red,--yes, I
think you would have agreed that she was beautiful. Lady Blanchemain, at
any rate, found her so.

"She's quite lovely," she declared. "Her face is exquisite--so
sensitive, so spiritual; so distinguished, so aristocratic. And so
_clever_," she added, after a suspension.

"Mm!" said John, his forehead wrinkled, as if something were puzzling
him.

"She has a figure--she holds herself well," said Lady Blanchemain.

"Mm!" said John.

"I suppose," said she, "you're too much a mere man to be able to
appreciate her frock? It's the work of a dressmaker who knows her
business. And that lilac muslin (that's so fashionable now) really does,
in the open air, with the country for background, show to immense
advantage. Come--out with it. Tell me all about her. Who _is_ she?"

"That's just what I'm up a tree to think," said John. "I can't imagine.
How long has she been there? From what direction did she come?"

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