She was as trim as ever, even in the old clothes she had worn for the occasion.
Her round, strong neck was as usual swathed high and tight in white, and the huge dog-collar girdled her waist according to her custom.

She had taken off her hat.

Her yellow hair rolled back from her round forehead and cool pink cheeks like a veritable nimbus, and for the fiftieth time Condy remarked the charming contrast of her small, deep-brown eyes in the midst of this white satin, yellow hair, white skin, and exquisite pink cheeks.
An hour passed.

Then two.
"No fish," murmured Condy, drawing in his line to examine the bait.
But, as he was fumbling with the flies he was startled by a sharp exclamation from Blix.
"Oh-Condy-I've-got-a-bite!" He looked up just in time to see the tip of her rod twitch, twitch, twitch.

Then the whole rod arched suddenly, the reel sang, the line tautened and cut diagonally through the water.
"You got him! you got him!" he shouted, palpitating with excitement.
"And he's a good one!" Blix rose, reeling in as rapidly as was possible, the butt of the twitching, living rod braced against her belt.