I ate them all!" Her laughter was like the tinkle of silver bells.

Her head, thrown back as she laughed gayly, displayed a throat rounded and full and smooth, and tanned to the hue of her wind-beaten cheeks.

Every move of her graceful body was unrestrained and flowing, with a hint of Indian freedom about it.

Beaded and trimmed like a native princess, her garments manifested an ornature that spoke of savagery, yet they were neatly cut and held to the pattern of the whites.
"Constantine was drunk again last night, and I had to give him a talking to when we came back.

Oh, but I laid him out! He's frightened to death of me when I'm angry." She furrowed her brow in a scowl--the daintiest, most ridiculous pucker of a brow that ever man saw--and drew her red lips into an angry pout as she recounted her temperance talk till the trader broke in, his voice very soft, his gray-blue eyes as tender as those of a woman: "It's good to have you home again, Necia.