They were the words of songs taught her by her mother's maid.
She had been tramping over the hills for a couple of hours, virile, beautiful, and alone.

She wore a gown of dark gold, with little green ribbons here and there.

The gown was short, and her ankles showed.
In spite of the strong boots she wore they were alert, delicate, and shapely, and all her beauty had the slender fullness of a quail.
When she saw Dyck, she stopped suddenly, her mouth slightly open.

She gave him a sidelong glance of wonder, interest, and speculation.

Then she threw her head slightly back, and all the curls gathered in a bunch and shook like bronze flowers.