So heavy was it that it tipped her head backward, and the position thrust her chin out a little.

It was a charming poise, innocent, confiding, almost infantile.
She was dressed all in black, very modest and plain.

The effect of her pale face in all this contrasting black was almost monastic.
"Well," exclaimed Marcus suddenly, "I got to go.

Must get back to work.
Don't hurt her too much, Mac.

S'long, Trina." McTeague and Trina were left alone.