To Jeanne she represented a type wholly strange, but altogether interesting.

She was little over twenty years of age, but she was strong and finely built.

She had the black hair and dark brown eyes, which here and there amongst the villagers of the east coast remind one of the immigration of worsted spinners and silk weavers from Flanders and the North of France, many centuries ago.

She was very handsome but exceedingly shy.

When Jeanne, as she had done more than once, tried to talk to her, her abrupt replies gave little opening for conversation.
One morning, however, when Jeanne, having returned from a long tramp across the sand dunes, was sitting in the little orchard at the back of the house, she saw her landlady's daughter come slowly out to her from the house.