True, he had apologized a little later on, and had blushed quite becomingly in doing so, but nothing,--nothing in the world,--would ever make her believe that he was not the sort of man who could be depended upon to put a woman in her place and keep her there.

He might apologize until he was black in the face and still be unable to take back the words he had uttered.

Notwithstanding that he, in his apology, professed to have mistaken her in the darkness for one of the Portuguese immigrant women who didn't understand a word of English, she forgave him quite humbly, and that was going pretty far for Olga Obosky, whose identity ought not to have been a matter of doubt, even on the darkest of nights.
She was a lithe, perfectly formed young woman, beautiful in an unusual way.

Her body was as sinuous as that of a woodland nymph.

Indeed, in one of her most spectacular dances, she appeared as a nymph, barefooted, bare-legged, and,--as Mrs.Spofford caustically remarked,--bare-faced.
She possessed the marvellously clear, colourless complexion found only among the purely Slavic women.