Her lips were red and sensuous, her eyes darkly mysterious and brooding, her hair as black as the raven's wing.
When she smiled her face became strikingly alive, radiant, transforming her into a jolly, good-natured, wholesome girl in whom not the faintest trace of the carnal was left.

Every move, every thought, every impulse was feminine; her imagination was feminine; she cast the spell of her femininity over all with whom she came in contact.

Primitively sensuous, she was also primitively wary,--and so she was ineffably feminine.
Prior to the time of her dramatic encounter with the American, she had favoured him with no more than a glance or two of curiosity.

He was a stowaway; for a brief while he was suspected of being involved in the plot to blow up the ship.

That was enough for her.