Her thick hair of burnished black was piled on top of her head in gracious disorder, and from it swayed a scarlet paper flower.

About her lithe body, over a black satin skirt, swathing her in its graceful folds, clung a Spanish shawl of saffron-colored background with long brown silken fringe, and flowered all over with brown and red and peacock blue, and held in place by three huge barbaric pins jeweled with colored glass, one at either hip and upon her right shoulder, leaving her smooth shoulders bare and free.

With no more than a glance to get the hasty effect, she hurried up to the studio.
Hunt whistled at sight of her, but made no remark.

Flushed, she looked back at him defiantly.

The Duchess gave no sign whatever of being aware of the transformation.
Maggie with excited touches tried to improve her setting of the table, aquiver with expectancy and suspense at the nearness of the meeting--every nerve of audition strained to catch the first footfall upon the stairs.